How do you unblock your ears after a flight
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2024.05.15 23:34 clinical_Cynicism You did WHAT to my Sister?!
After the great scattering and the unification of Terra and the Sol system. The Emperor ventured out to conquer the galaxy and search for his Primarchs. During this great crusade many Primarchs were found, and despite some setbacks, reunited with their legions. His Primarchs were tasked with the further unification and subjugation of the fragmented remnants of humanity throughout the stars. In this they were told to keep a lookout for their fellow creations. Some Primarchs like Vulkania, Hathor and Sanguinia were devoting great efforts to find and rescue their lost Sisters while the more coldly pragmatic ones like Ferra, Perturaba and Ellanor treated this task as more of a chore with the expectation of unearthing a new weapon for the war effort. So in Year 888 of M 30 of the imperial standard calendar the blood angels legion and their primarch Sanguinia were carrying out the expansion efforts in the borderzone of the growing ultramar exclave. As it happened they came across a civilized human world, that its residence called Nuceria. Sanguinia, ever the charming diplomat, had first contact messages sent out on all possible vox channels and frequencies and even utilizing communication methods from the dark age of technologie in hopes of reaching the planetary authorities. After managing to establish a reliable method of communication she scheduled plans to send an envoy for a planetary landing and subsequent negotiations about the integration into the imperium. As they were loading up the landing crafts with gifts and weapons and diplomats and space marines, Sanguinia was walking across the main hangar bay of the Red Tear. Looking left and right over all the busy people, her wings swaying in the breeze of the air conditioning. At the end of the hangar hall she saw admiral Ares DuCade hurrying towards her with his entourage. She took a moment to stand still and look at him coming, her moment of peace would soon be over.
“There you are my lord, I have been looking for you all morning! You weren’t on the flight deck, you weren’t on the command deck nor on the Bridge nor in your personal quarters and not even on the observation deck could I find you. Landing group alpha primus were worried to terra and back, that their main asset wouldn’t show up in time for take off. First officer Morel almost cried at the thought of having lost a Primarch! Just what in the Imperiums name has possessed you to roam the lower bowes of the ship!” Sanguinia smiled and laughed: “Oh I just wanted to ensure that the ensins and marines of objective group two and three were well rested. I know they don’t mind doing the less glamorous security work but I don’t want them to feel left out just because they couldn’t take part in the parade today.” DuCarde sighed: “Please at least tell your personal security detail before going on such an unscheduled escapade”. He looked at his Primarch, then blushed and looked away. “But thank you for caring about the men”, he couldn’t stay mad at her, not with that smile. “Well then, let us proceed, before we cause a delay, If we go now we should just about make it in time”, Sanguinia winked at him and led the way.
As predicted the transport shuttles departed just in time and the descent to Nuceria was smooth and without issue. Group primus would head down towards the capitol and land just outside in a spectacular flight show before parading into the city where they would engage in the negotiations. Sanguinia knew the importance of making powerful and benevolent first impressions. Group secundus and tertius would make a less impressive descent and position themselves near the military, logistics and communications centers, just in case the talks went sour or the planetary authority would try to pull a fast one on the Legion. But so far everything went to plan, they were almost at the main square, their diplomats had engaged the planetary politicians and even though her personal honor guard was tense, looking for danger around every corner, Sanguinia made a calm and relaxed impression. She had to make a conscious effort for this impression but she knew as soon as this was done she could return to her beloved little dove and spend with them the time that was otherwise allocated for the conquest of this planet. The Desh’ean nobility welcomed Sanguinia and one man stepped forward and introduced himself as lord Thal’kr, leader of the ruling clan. His pompous attitude suggested he saw himself as an equal to Sanguinia, from one lord to another, this was a nuisance that she would just have to deal with. Usually putting pretentious mortals in their place wasn’t an issue for any primarch and she could do it tactfully too, but something about this seemed to give the red angel a headache. Regardless they followed the planetary customs to the necessary degree and were soon invited to a spectacle in the colosseum. Sanguinia, her honor guard, her remembrancer and various other guests were placed in the royal lounge with servants, wine and a grandiose view over the arena. While she was half heartedly listening to the japping of lord Thal’kr her gaze glanced over the rest of the stadium. It was packed. Bread and games seemed to keep the populous obedient. Her headache was still not going away. It was a weird feeling, not even her prescience would allow her to divine what it was. She tried to direct her focus back to what the noble was saying. “...So anyway we have this great gladiator, basically a giant, and the best part is, She’s basically indestructible. Any wound and any torment we inflict on her she recovers from. The populus loves her, especially when we have her fight great beasts like mammoths and nucerian mountain lions. But personally I think her best performance was when we had her fight alongside her adoptive father in an impossible fight, and then when they survived, we told them to kill each other! HAHAHAHA.” The laughter of the fat, opulent tyrant made Sanguinia want to cringe and turn away, but something told her to pay attention. Sanguinia became envious of her bodyguards, for they had helmets behind which they could hide their disgust. This man's ruling ethics could not have been further apart from her own. She tries to distract herself by looking at the faces of the other attendance. To her dismay the only other local that seemed to find anything wrong with this story was a young mortal standing by the balcony and holding a bouquet of flowers. Lord Thal’kr seemed to notice. "Oh? Do you fancy the little one? They are one of my Children. I’ll introduce you.” He turned and called out: “Hei Yarrow come here and give the nice lady the courtesy will you?” The young mortal hurried over, almost tripping over their light robes. They stood in front of the red angel and bowed deeply; clearly they had been raised to be polite and respectful in anticipation for a marriage alliance. “H-hello your highness my name is Yarrow, I’m blessed to meet you,” they blushed but stayed composed even in the presence of someone as intimidating as a primarch. “Come on little one be nice and subservient and maybe the lady will take you away and show you the stars beyond our world,” the tyrant laughed, “what were you doing over there by the balcony anyway? You weren’t thinking any bad thoughts about the gladiators again were you?” “Ah n-no father. Of course not.” “That’s still ‘my lord’ to you.” He shooed young Yarrow away. “Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, And then they thought they could be slick by refusing to fight each other, but we won’t be defied that easily, so we pumped her full of stimulants and had neural-anti cognitors placed in her head. Oh you should’ve seen her then, ripped her father apart like a squealing rabbit. And how she cried afterwards, like a little bitch. Oh what wouldn’t I give to hear that again.” Another noble chimed in:”But what about the time we made her fight her lover?” “Who do you mean?” The tyrant asked. “Gladiolus the beautiful but fearsome young Gladiator,” the noble replied. “Ah yeah HAHA. Well not so fearsome in the end were they?” Lord Thal’kr laughed again. “You have to know, when we learned about their relationship, they had apparently gotten close after the death of her father, we brought the two into the arena. They thought they would be fighting beasts but in reality they would have to fight each other. We gave her just enough time to realize her predicament before we pumped up the pressure on those anti-cognitors and turned her back into a wild savage animal. You should have seen them. Gladiolus pleaded with her to ‘snap out of it’ but she fell upon them and crushed their skull between her thighs like a watermelon. It was a delicious spectacle.” This man seemed to relish in the memory and just as Sanguinia contemplated if it was worth keeping him around he went: “Look! There She is. Child of the mountain, Mistress of the red sands along with our finest gladiators. Hail to those about to die!”
Sanguinia looked down into the arena and got hit with a wave of realization like an orbital bombardment. As she stared down she knew what the feeling was that had plagued her all day. It was this presence that she sensed and her prescience that had been screaming at her what her mind didn’t want to comprehend. But now it stood there below her, clear as day and no longer deniable. She thought no primarch could be more haggard than Morrigan and no such demigod could be more disheveled than Corvess. But she was wrong. Before her eyes stood, wrapped in chains, beaten and broken, her own flesh and blood. And as Angron looked up at the red angel standing at the parapet, all that Sanguinia could do was to close her mind to the visions of what was to come.
“You did WHAT to my Sister?!” The red angel spoke, dry and sharp, hair fell across her face and droplets of black blood fell on the parapet. “Well… we…”, before the tyrant could even speak she fell upon him. A massive hand clamped around his jaw and ripped it off. The guards reacted fast but the astarties reacted faster, thow they could not do much more than dispatch of the armed men before Azkellon ordered them to stand down. They looked over at their primarch who, in this brief moment, had already torn her way through seven other nobles with bare hands and was now about to reach her sword. Azkellon saw that the situation had turned most dire and knew he had to take charge. He turned on the vox:”all channels, situation’s fubar. Proceed with operational backup plan. Don’t go near mother, she is violent and unresponsive.” He then turned towards the brothers standing next to him and shouted: “Sanguinary guard evacuate the premises, ensure the retreat of all imperial non-combatants and most important of all: rescue that Primarch!” He pointed down into the arena, the lower levels of the stadium hadn’t yet realized what was happening, but sure enough there would be mass panic and a stampede. The Astarties split up and Azkellon along with his squad hopped down into the upper levels of the stadium. They did so just in time because the roof of the lodge began to buckle as the red angel cut through men and stone pillars as if they were straw. Azkellon cursed under his breath. He should have insisted on jump packs for this operation. It was no use now, they had to make their way down into the arena by foot, cut a way if necessary. When they were finally in the bottom rows the roof of the lodge above them collapsed and they heard an ear ringing scream: “HOW DARE YOU!” and “MY BABY SISTER!”. Clearly the primarch had finished massacring the major nobles in attendance and was now carving a bloody canyon through the minor ones. The stadium was now in full panik and mortals were scrambling over each other to get out of their own slaughterhouse. The Astarties hopped another fence down into the arena. A few bolter rounds dispatched of the remaining guards and Azkellon made his way over to the still restrained Angron. The next few words he spoke would be crucial to ensure the primarchs' cooperation; he had to choose them carefully and he had to choose them fast. “Mistress of the red sands, we are the angels of the Godemperor of mankind sent to aid you in your escape from this wretched place!” He prayed to Terra that she didn’t actually want to stay here. But to his relief Angron nodded and spoke:”My thanks. Get me out of these shackles, I can fight for myself.” Azkellon hurried to get out his multi-tool and got to work on the primarchs bindings. As he did so he looked her in the eyes and said: “it’s okay, you no longer need to fight for or by yourself.” Angron tried to stay stoic but he could see that the primarch was fighting to hold back tears. She looked as thow decades and decades of prayers prayed cold and lonely cells had finally been answered. When the shackles cracked and broke she turned away: ”They come with me”, she pointed to the other gladiators in the arena. “Very well”, Azkellon knew he couldn’t refuse her or the tenuous trust they had just built would be null and void. His squad freed the gladiators and they hurried out of the arena as Askellon ordered another thunderhawk for evacuation. As the last to leave the arena he looked back and saw the seating area had been filled with so much gore and viscera that blood began to spill over and run down the walls into the sand of the fighting pit. He made another vox call to the red tear and ordered them to get Dove on that thunderhawk along with as many tranquilizers as they could muster. They would need any help they could get if they wanted Sanguinia to calm down.
Angron led the astarties through the underbowels of the arena; clearly she knew her way around. However, that also meant that she chose a way that went past all the prison cells to free as many of the caged slaves, gladiators and animals as she could. Azkellon did not complain, he just wanted to get out of here. When they finally managed to leave the colosseum for good they stopped to take a brief respite. Angron turned to Azkellon and said: “I am grateful for your efforts but please, may I ask, you remove your helmet if you are able to, I’d like to see your face if you have one.” He did so and confirmed what he had felt for a while. Tears of black blood streamed down his cheeks and seeped out of his helmet. She looked shocked. “I’m sorry miss, this doesn’t usually happen, but our mother … your sister… it must be the deep connection we have with her that causes this.” Before he could apologize further for the undignified display, they saw a figure rise above the colosseum. The red angel had spread her bloodstained wings and was flying towards the ruling palace at the other end of the city. Over the vox the voice of the enraged primarch could be heard: “LET NONE LEAVE ALIVE! SHOOT ANY THAT ESCAPE THE CITY!” Azkellon had to quickly amend those orders to ensure that the slaves they rescued would survive. Then he voxed in with the other squad of sanguinary guard to get a status report on the evacuation of the imperial diplomats. Luckily they were almost out of the city and operational groups secundus and tertius hadn’t said anything so it was to be assumed that their part went to plan and there wouldn’t be any planetary reinforcements arriving in the city anytime soon. The squad tended to the malnourished slaves and wounded gladiators as best they could and then embarked on the safest possible route out of Desh’ea. The mortals would slow them down but leaving them behind wasn’t much of an option. Besides, mother had always reminded them that they were once mortal as well.
When they were about half way towards the extraction zone, they passed a squad of blood angel terminators carrying heavy equipment and escorting a young mortal. “Barbiel, is that you?” Azkellon shouted over to them. “Yes, great herald, we have the assets you requested.” “Good, the primarch went that way towards the palace. See if you can stop her madness. … Barbiel?" The crimson paladin seemed to stare off into the space behind him. But when Azkellon saw that it wasn’t just him but the other terminators and the young Dove as well he realized what it was. “This is primarch Angron Thal'kyr. we are escorting her to the thunderhawk for evacuation.” The terminators composed themselves, nodded and then hurried along.
And so passed another tense hour of walking through empty and abandoned streets while avoiding the panicking crowds. The hysteria had spread throughout the entire city and rightfully so. There wasn’t a gutter that didn’t have a trickle of blood running through it. Azkellon knew the power of the primarchs but he was still taken aback at how much carnage a single entity could cause. If there was a god of slaughter, he would surely smile this day.
When they reached the edges of the city Azkellon was relieved to hear the turbines of the thunderhawk. Angron stood still behind him, apparently needing a moment. Surely this was the first time she saw a spacecraft. “Where will this take us?” she asked. “Far away from this sight of misery,” he answered. It wasn’t untrue. “I’ll gladly go but first I need one more person to come with me,” she turned around and walked back towards the city, “I need my Yarrow, I need my desert flower, I cannot leave without them.” Azkellon was glad he had put his helmet back on, as he was certain all the color just drained from his face. He quickly voxed in with the terminator team asking if they had managed to calm down Sanguinia. Indeed they had somehow managed to stabilize her with a combination of Doves' kind words and enough tranquilizers to kill a horde of grox. Then He asked about the Tyrant's Child and after a moment of silence got the answer he did not want to expect. The red angel had slain the young mortal in her episode of unending rage. Azkellon thanked the emperor that he was the only one who could hear that answer. He told them to bring back the body of the slain Yarrow and tell Angron that they were killed by their father. He also stressed that they should ensure that no one ever finds out the truth, especially not Angron or any member of the war hounds legion.
When Angron heard news of the perishing of her second lover, she was inconsolable. She wept until they brought her the lifeless body and she wept over them the entire flight back, and she wept at the funeral when they let their corpse drift into the sun over Nuceria and she wept for several days after. These were a rough couple days despite the planetary conquest going off with very few issues. As Sanguinia read the report her legions apothecaries made about Angron and the butcher's nails in her head, she too fluctuated between rage and sorrow. She cradled and comforted her sister trying anything to lessen her pain. Finally she decided on the surgical removal of the butcher’s nails. When her apothecaries warned her of the dangers and the possibility of killing or stunting her sister, she almost tore one of their heads off shouting: “I’d rather have a brain dead sister than a suffering one.” Alas Sanguinia decided to perform the procedure herself. Her apothecaries suggested returning to nearby Ultramar to take advantage of their medical facilities, but Sanguinia denied them for she could not bear to see her Sister in agony for a single second longer.
Preparations were made and when the day of the surgery came all the medical staff of the red tear that could attend, did so. Even the ones who weren’t required sat in the amphitheater and watched the tense procedure. Sanguinia walked onto the operating floor covered in sterile white robes and a surgical mask over her face. Even her wings were covered in sterile white bindings. They would not remain white for long. Angron was rolled in and placed upon the operating table. Sanguinia looked at the sedated and still body of her sister; she was only covered in a ghostly thin sheet. “Father give me strength”, she muttered under her breath. A dozen astarties and two dozen mortal doctors huddled around the two. One of them handed Sanguinia a custom made pair of operating gloves. She dawned them, flicked them to ensure they sat tight and spoke: “let us begin”. A mortal brought her the scalpel. ‘This shall be the blade I wield today’, She thought to herself.
The surgery was long and arduous; it took three whole days before it was over. By the end Sanquinia was exhausted, she had to focus on making perfect nanometer cuts while simultaneously concentrating on using her prescience to ensure the best possible outcome. She slumped into a chair; her otherwise perfect hair was sweaty and messy. When a doctor came in to tell her that Angron's vital signs read normal, her exhausted face managed to curl into a mellow smile. Dove wanted to comfort her after all the work she did, but she only allowed it for a moment. For Sanguinia knew that her sister would soon awake and she needed to be there. When Angron awoke and looked into her sister's eyes she smiled, feeling as if she had awoken from the nightmare that was her life on Nuceria. But when she saw Dove standing by her sister's side she broke into tears, for she remembered. She remembered not only how she lost Yarrow but she remembered how she lost Gladiolus too. The butcher's nails prevent memories from being formed while in a state of rage but that is only effective in normal men. Angron's nails had prevented her from remembering how she murdered her father and crushed her lover in the arena but now she saw it again, clear as day. She wept and wailed in the arms of her sister, soaking her hair and wings in tears.
The pain of the nails was gone but the pain of the past was one that could not be lifted. Angron engaged with her sister, for Sanguinia managed to take her mind off of the grief she still felt. But this would not last long, for soon the Conqueror arrived carrying the war hounds legion, forcing the two sisters to separate. After this Angron fell into a deep deep depression. Ordered to lead men she barely even knew and on board of a ship she found to be unfamiliar, Angron felt even more alone than in the slave pits of Nuceria. Not even the slaves she rescued were there to accompany her for she had sent them away to a paradise world, far away so they may never again be forced to fight. Angron was alone again, she was frightened again and most of all: she was in a cage again. She locked herself in her chambers, where she sank deeper and deeper into grief and sorrow. When her marines came and tried to talk to her she lashed out in desperation, killing more than a few. Even though the nails were removed, she still felt like she was only here to endure a life of suffering and torment.
submitted by clinical_Cynicism to PrimarchGFs [link] [comments]
“There you are my lord, I have been looking for you all morning! You weren’t on the flight deck, you weren’t on the command deck nor on the Bridge nor in your personal quarters and not even on the observation deck could I find you. Landing group alpha primus were worried to terra and back, that their main asset wouldn’t show up in time for take off. First officer Morel almost cried at the thought of having lost a Primarch! Just what in the Imperiums name has possessed you to roam the lower bowes of the ship!” Sanguinia smiled and laughed: “Oh I just wanted to ensure that the ensins and marines of objective group two and three were well rested. I know they don’t mind doing the less glamorous security work but I don’t want them to feel left out just because they couldn’t take part in the parade today.” DuCarde sighed: “Please at least tell your personal security detail before going on such an unscheduled escapade”. He looked at his Primarch, then blushed and looked away. “But thank you for caring about the men”, he couldn’t stay mad at her, not with that smile. “Well then, let us proceed, before we cause a delay, If we go now we should just about make it in time”, Sanguinia winked at him and led the way.
As predicted the transport shuttles departed just in time and the descent to Nuceria was smooth and without issue. Group primus would head down towards the capitol and land just outside in a spectacular flight show before parading into the city where they would engage in the negotiations. Sanguinia knew the importance of making powerful and benevolent first impressions. Group secundus and tertius would make a less impressive descent and position themselves near the military, logistics and communications centers, just in case the talks went sour or the planetary authority would try to pull a fast one on the Legion. But so far everything went to plan, they were almost at the main square, their diplomats had engaged the planetary politicians and even though her personal honor guard was tense, looking for danger around every corner, Sanguinia made a calm and relaxed impression. She had to make a conscious effort for this impression but she knew as soon as this was done she could return to her beloved little dove and spend with them the time that was otherwise allocated for the conquest of this planet. The Desh’ean nobility welcomed Sanguinia and one man stepped forward and introduced himself as lord Thal’kr, leader of the ruling clan. His pompous attitude suggested he saw himself as an equal to Sanguinia, from one lord to another, this was a nuisance that she would just have to deal with. Usually putting pretentious mortals in their place wasn’t an issue for any primarch and she could do it tactfully too, but something about this seemed to give the red angel a headache. Regardless they followed the planetary customs to the necessary degree and were soon invited to a spectacle in the colosseum. Sanguinia, her honor guard, her remembrancer and various other guests were placed in the royal lounge with servants, wine and a grandiose view over the arena. While she was half heartedly listening to the japping of lord Thal’kr her gaze glanced over the rest of the stadium. It was packed. Bread and games seemed to keep the populous obedient. Her headache was still not going away. It was a weird feeling, not even her prescience would allow her to divine what it was. She tried to direct her focus back to what the noble was saying. “...So anyway we have this great gladiator, basically a giant, and the best part is, She’s basically indestructible. Any wound and any torment we inflict on her she recovers from. The populus loves her, especially when we have her fight great beasts like mammoths and nucerian mountain lions. But personally I think her best performance was when we had her fight alongside her adoptive father in an impossible fight, and then when they survived, we told them to kill each other! HAHAHAHA.” The laughter of the fat, opulent tyrant made Sanguinia want to cringe and turn away, but something told her to pay attention. Sanguinia became envious of her bodyguards, for they had helmets behind which they could hide their disgust. This man's ruling ethics could not have been further apart from her own. She tries to distract herself by looking at the faces of the other attendance. To her dismay the only other local that seemed to find anything wrong with this story was a young mortal standing by the balcony and holding a bouquet of flowers. Lord Thal’kr seemed to notice. "Oh? Do you fancy the little one? They are one of my Children. I’ll introduce you.” He turned and called out: “Hei Yarrow come here and give the nice lady the courtesy will you?” The young mortal hurried over, almost tripping over their light robes. They stood in front of the red angel and bowed deeply; clearly they had been raised to be polite and respectful in anticipation for a marriage alliance. “H-hello your highness my name is Yarrow, I’m blessed to meet you,” they blushed but stayed composed even in the presence of someone as intimidating as a primarch. “Come on little one be nice and subservient and maybe the lady will take you away and show you the stars beyond our world,” the tyrant laughed, “what were you doing over there by the balcony anyway? You weren’t thinking any bad thoughts about the gladiators again were you?” “Ah n-no father. Of course not.” “That’s still ‘my lord’ to you.” He shooed young Yarrow away. “Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, And then they thought they could be slick by refusing to fight each other, but we won’t be defied that easily, so we pumped her full of stimulants and had neural-anti cognitors placed in her head. Oh you should’ve seen her then, ripped her father apart like a squealing rabbit. And how she cried afterwards, like a little bitch. Oh what wouldn’t I give to hear that again.” Another noble chimed in:”But what about the time we made her fight her lover?” “Who do you mean?” The tyrant asked. “Gladiolus the beautiful but fearsome young Gladiator,” the noble replied. “Ah yeah HAHA. Well not so fearsome in the end were they?” Lord Thal’kr laughed again. “You have to know, when we learned about their relationship, they had apparently gotten close after the death of her father, we brought the two into the arena. They thought they would be fighting beasts but in reality they would have to fight each other. We gave her just enough time to realize her predicament before we pumped up the pressure on those anti-cognitors and turned her back into a wild savage animal. You should have seen them. Gladiolus pleaded with her to ‘snap out of it’ but she fell upon them and crushed their skull between her thighs like a watermelon. It was a delicious spectacle.” This man seemed to relish in the memory and just as Sanguinia contemplated if it was worth keeping him around he went: “Look! There She is. Child of the mountain, Mistress of the red sands along with our finest gladiators. Hail to those about to die!”
Sanguinia looked down into the arena and got hit with a wave of realization like an orbital bombardment. As she stared down she knew what the feeling was that had plagued her all day. It was this presence that she sensed and her prescience that had been screaming at her what her mind didn’t want to comprehend. But now it stood there below her, clear as day and no longer deniable. She thought no primarch could be more haggard than Morrigan and no such demigod could be more disheveled than Corvess. But she was wrong. Before her eyes stood, wrapped in chains, beaten and broken, her own flesh and blood. And as Angron looked up at the red angel standing at the parapet, all that Sanguinia could do was to close her mind to the visions of what was to come.
“You did WHAT to my Sister?!” The red angel spoke, dry and sharp, hair fell across her face and droplets of black blood fell on the parapet. “Well… we…”, before the tyrant could even speak she fell upon him. A massive hand clamped around his jaw and ripped it off. The guards reacted fast but the astarties reacted faster, thow they could not do much more than dispatch of the armed men before Azkellon ordered them to stand down. They looked over at their primarch who, in this brief moment, had already torn her way through seven other nobles with bare hands and was now about to reach her sword. Azkellon saw that the situation had turned most dire and knew he had to take charge. He turned on the vox:”all channels, situation’s fubar. Proceed with operational backup plan. Don’t go near mother, she is violent and unresponsive.” He then turned towards the brothers standing next to him and shouted: “Sanguinary guard evacuate the premises, ensure the retreat of all imperial non-combatants and most important of all: rescue that Primarch!” He pointed down into the arena, the lower levels of the stadium hadn’t yet realized what was happening, but sure enough there would be mass panic and a stampede. The Astarties split up and Azkellon along with his squad hopped down into the upper levels of the stadium. They did so just in time because the roof of the lodge began to buckle as the red angel cut through men and stone pillars as if they were straw. Azkellon cursed under his breath. He should have insisted on jump packs for this operation. It was no use now, they had to make their way down into the arena by foot, cut a way if necessary. When they were finally in the bottom rows the roof of the lodge above them collapsed and they heard an ear ringing scream: “HOW DARE YOU!” and “MY BABY SISTER!”. Clearly the primarch had finished massacring the major nobles in attendance and was now carving a bloody canyon through the minor ones. The stadium was now in full panik and mortals were scrambling over each other to get out of their own slaughterhouse. The Astarties hopped another fence down into the arena. A few bolter rounds dispatched of the remaining guards and Azkellon made his way over to the still restrained Angron. The next few words he spoke would be crucial to ensure the primarchs' cooperation; he had to choose them carefully and he had to choose them fast. “Mistress of the red sands, we are the angels of the Godemperor of mankind sent to aid you in your escape from this wretched place!” He prayed to Terra that she didn’t actually want to stay here. But to his relief Angron nodded and spoke:”My thanks. Get me out of these shackles, I can fight for myself.” Azkellon hurried to get out his multi-tool and got to work on the primarchs bindings. As he did so he looked her in the eyes and said: “it’s okay, you no longer need to fight for or by yourself.” Angron tried to stay stoic but he could see that the primarch was fighting to hold back tears. She looked as thow decades and decades of prayers prayed cold and lonely cells had finally been answered. When the shackles cracked and broke she turned away: ”They come with me”, she pointed to the other gladiators in the arena. “Very well”, Azkellon knew he couldn’t refuse her or the tenuous trust they had just built would be null and void. His squad freed the gladiators and they hurried out of the arena as Askellon ordered another thunderhawk for evacuation. As the last to leave the arena he looked back and saw the seating area had been filled with so much gore and viscera that blood began to spill over and run down the walls into the sand of the fighting pit. He made another vox call to the red tear and ordered them to get Dove on that thunderhawk along with as many tranquilizers as they could muster. They would need any help they could get if they wanted Sanguinia to calm down.
Angron led the astarties through the underbowels of the arena; clearly she knew her way around. However, that also meant that she chose a way that went past all the prison cells to free as many of the caged slaves, gladiators and animals as she could. Azkellon did not complain, he just wanted to get out of here. When they finally managed to leave the colosseum for good they stopped to take a brief respite. Angron turned to Azkellon and said: “I am grateful for your efforts but please, may I ask, you remove your helmet if you are able to, I’d like to see your face if you have one.” He did so and confirmed what he had felt for a while. Tears of black blood streamed down his cheeks and seeped out of his helmet. She looked shocked. “I’m sorry miss, this doesn’t usually happen, but our mother … your sister… it must be the deep connection we have with her that causes this.” Before he could apologize further for the undignified display, they saw a figure rise above the colosseum. The red angel had spread her bloodstained wings and was flying towards the ruling palace at the other end of the city. Over the vox the voice of the enraged primarch could be heard: “LET NONE LEAVE ALIVE! SHOOT ANY THAT ESCAPE THE CITY!” Azkellon had to quickly amend those orders to ensure that the slaves they rescued would survive. Then he voxed in with the other squad of sanguinary guard to get a status report on the evacuation of the imperial diplomats. Luckily they were almost out of the city and operational groups secundus and tertius hadn’t said anything so it was to be assumed that their part went to plan and there wouldn’t be any planetary reinforcements arriving in the city anytime soon. The squad tended to the malnourished slaves and wounded gladiators as best they could and then embarked on the safest possible route out of Desh’ea. The mortals would slow them down but leaving them behind wasn’t much of an option. Besides, mother had always reminded them that they were once mortal as well.
When they were about half way towards the extraction zone, they passed a squad of blood angel terminators carrying heavy equipment and escorting a young mortal. “Barbiel, is that you?” Azkellon shouted over to them. “Yes, great herald, we have the assets you requested.” “Good, the primarch went that way towards the palace. See if you can stop her madness. … Barbiel?" The crimson paladin seemed to stare off into the space behind him. But when Azkellon saw that it wasn’t just him but the other terminators and the young Dove as well he realized what it was. “This is primarch Angron Thal'kyr. we are escorting her to the thunderhawk for evacuation.” The terminators composed themselves, nodded and then hurried along.
And so passed another tense hour of walking through empty and abandoned streets while avoiding the panicking crowds. The hysteria had spread throughout the entire city and rightfully so. There wasn’t a gutter that didn’t have a trickle of blood running through it. Azkellon knew the power of the primarchs but he was still taken aback at how much carnage a single entity could cause. If there was a god of slaughter, he would surely smile this day.
When they reached the edges of the city Azkellon was relieved to hear the turbines of the thunderhawk. Angron stood still behind him, apparently needing a moment. Surely this was the first time she saw a spacecraft. “Where will this take us?” she asked. “Far away from this sight of misery,” he answered. It wasn’t untrue. “I’ll gladly go but first I need one more person to come with me,” she turned around and walked back towards the city, “I need my Yarrow, I need my desert flower, I cannot leave without them.” Azkellon was glad he had put his helmet back on, as he was certain all the color just drained from his face. He quickly voxed in with the terminator team asking if they had managed to calm down Sanguinia. Indeed they had somehow managed to stabilize her with a combination of Doves' kind words and enough tranquilizers to kill a horde of grox. Then He asked about the Tyrant's Child and after a moment of silence got the answer he did not want to expect. The red angel had slain the young mortal in her episode of unending rage. Azkellon thanked the emperor that he was the only one who could hear that answer. He told them to bring back the body of the slain Yarrow and tell Angron that they were killed by their father. He also stressed that they should ensure that no one ever finds out the truth, especially not Angron or any member of the war hounds legion.
When Angron heard news of the perishing of her second lover, she was inconsolable. She wept until they brought her the lifeless body and she wept over them the entire flight back, and she wept at the funeral when they let their corpse drift into the sun over Nuceria and she wept for several days after. These were a rough couple days despite the planetary conquest going off with very few issues. As Sanguinia read the report her legions apothecaries made about Angron and the butcher's nails in her head, she too fluctuated between rage and sorrow. She cradled and comforted her sister trying anything to lessen her pain. Finally she decided on the surgical removal of the butcher’s nails. When her apothecaries warned her of the dangers and the possibility of killing or stunting her sister, she almost tore one of their heads off shouting: “I’d rather have a brain dead sister than a suffering one.” Alas Sanguinia decided to perform the procedure herself. Her apothecaries suggested returning to nearby Ultramar to take advantage of their medical facilities, but Sanguinia denied them for she could not bear to see her Sister in agony for a single second longer.
Preparations were made and when the day of the surgery came all the medical staff of the red tear that could attend, did so. Even the ones who weren’t required sat in the amphitheater and watched the tense procedure. Sanguinia walked onto the operating floor covered in sterile white robes and a surgical mask over her face. Even her wings were covered in sterile white bindings. They would not remain white for long. Angron was rolled in and placed upon the operating table. Sanguinia looked at the sedated and still body of her sister; she was only covered in a ghostly thin sheet. “Father give me strength”, she muttered under her breath. A dozen astarties and two dozen mortal doctors huddled around the two. One of them handed Sanguinia a custom made pair of operating gloves. She dawned them, flicked them to ensure they sat tight and spoke: “let us begin”. A mortal brought her the scalpel. ‘This shall be the blade I wield today’, She thought to herself.
The surgery was long and arduous; it took three whole days before it was over. By the end Sanquinia was exhausted, she had to focus on making perfect nanometer cuts while simultaneously concentrating on using her prescience to ensure the best possible outcome. She slumped into a chair; her otherwise perfect hair was sweaty and messy. When a doctor came in to tell her that Angron's vital signs read normal, her exhausted face managed to curl into a mellow smile. Dove wanted to comfort her after all the work she did, but she only allowed it for a moment. For Sanguinia knew that her sister would soon awake and she needed to be there. When Angron awoke and looked into her sister's eyes she smiled, feeling as if she had awoken from the nightmare that was her life on Nuceria. But when she saw Dove standing by her sister's side she broke into tears, for she remembered. She remembered not only how she lost Yarrow but she remembered how she lost Gladiolus too. The butcher's nails prevent memories from being formed while in a state of rage but that is only effective in normal men. Angron's nails had prevented her from remembering how she murdered her father and crushed her lover in the arena but now she saw it again, clear as day. She wept and wailed in the arms of her sister, soaking her hair and wings in tears.
The pain of the nails was gone but the pain of the past was one that could not be lifted. Angron engaged with her sister, for Sanguinia managed to take her mind off of the grief she still felt. But this would not last long, for soon the Conqueror arrived carrying the war hounds legion, forcing the two sisters to separate. After this Angron fell into a deep deep depression. Ordered to lead men she barely even knew and on board of a ship she found to be unfamiliar, Angron felt even more alone than in the slave pits of Nuceria. Not even the slaves she rescued were there to accompany her for she had sent them away to a paradise world, far away so they may never again be forced to fight. Angron was alone again, she was frightened again and most of all: she was in a cage again. She locked herself in her chambers, where she sank deeper and deeper into grief and sorrow. When her marines came and tried to talk to her she lashed out in desperation, killing more than a few. Even though the nails were removed, she still felt like she was only here to endure a life of suffering and torment.
2024.05.15 22:30 Ben_Elohim_2020 The Nature of Family [Chapter 17]
Credit to Blue for the wonderful cover art of Trilvri
Thank you to:
u/SpacePaladin15 for creating the Nature of Predators universe.
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EmClear, aspiring author, for proofreading
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Memory transcription subject: Sawvek, Junior Extermination Officer
Date [standardised human time]: October 5th, 2136
Hard foam presses uncomfortably up against delicate pressure points situated across the length of my entire body, building up to an unbearable ache that makes me shift and turn against the thin mattress pad. I yank at the rough old blanket I’d taken out of storage and clutch it even tighter around my body, trying to keep out the chill. The best racks, the ones near the heating vents, had already been claimed long before I’d decided to move into the Guild House’s Barracks and it doesn’t seem likely that the current occupants will be giving up their spots any time soon.
My mind is still racing from the events of last paw, replaying the scene over and over again in my dreams and in my head. The way my brother had looked at me… That look on his face when he’d seen the real me…
My paw gives a sympathetic throb in memory, still aching from where it had met the wall, but at least I had been able to wrap it up a bit and stop the bleeding. I feel like I should take it as a small miracle that it isn't broken. More medical bills are the last thing I need right now.
I turn about in the bunk once more, rolling around in vain to try and find a comfortable position that doesn’t seem to exist. Through a conscious act of will I try to empty my mind and sleep, but the very act of trying not to think about things only brings them bubbling back up to the surface of my thoughts. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, a damnable drumming sound brought about by the exertion of my own restless tossing and turning. Out in the hallway I can hear the muffled shuffling of feet and murmurs of conversation. The Guild Hall never sleeps, and it seems that neither would I this paw.
Electing to abandon the attempt as hopeless, I cut my rest claw short and get up, venturing out into the hallway. If I can’t sleep anyway then I might as well start my waking claw early, maybe get in a little exercise. It’s not so bad when it’s self-directed, almost fun in a way. If our family had the money to support it then maybe I could have been an athlete of some variety growing up. I had always possessed something of a natural physicality.
“Stop wasting time with worthless questions about what could have been, Killer.” The voice interjects, early and active today by the sound of it. “You’ll never amount to anything more than a wild predator kept on a leash.”
There’s nothing to do but sigh and carry on. It was right after all. This is it. This is my life now.
Making my way down the hallway towards the gym I find myself walking past a row of private offices assigned to some of the more veteran officers on staff. Most are empty at this claw, their occupants either asleep or off doing other work. One room in particular catches my attention though, the one belonging to our newest PRED Team Commander.
The door leading inside is open and ajar, seemingly forgotten in the midst of more pressing business and granting me a look inside. The entire room is a mess, papers and binders strewn about everywhere with official looking documents littering the floor. A map of the city decorates the otherwise unadorned and impersonal space. On its face it hosts a variety of multicoloured pins, all connecting seemingly arbitrary locations as well as photographs of people and places from the records department. The face of the former PRED Team Commander, Vrienna, looks out at me once again with the same cruel eyes that decorate the memorial wall. Beside her photo are another pair of eyes, a pair I recognise, but not one I would have expected to see here.
Trilvri, my brother’s creepy coworker, the one who’d brought him home the night he’d drunk himself into a stupor, stares out at me from the wall. He was younger in this photo, barely of age, if even that, and dressed in a regulation space corps flight suit, but I could still recognise him. Trilvri’s eyes appear somehow more lively than when I had met him in person, though it does nothing to improve his overall disposition, looking, as they are, as if behind them resides only hatred and a feral desire to kill and rend. Come to think of it, he had mentioned he used to be in the corps hadn’t he? ‘Used to’ being the operative word. When I’d asked he hadn’t seemed particularly fond of his time in the service…
Situated as he is next to Vrienna like that, their pitch-black wool and evil-looking eyes bear a striking resemblance. It was the exact same sort of predatory expression that bore into your soul, the kind that made me feel weak and exposed, the same kind that was worn by-
“What do you think you’re doing in my office?” A voice asks from behind, nonplussed, but with a casual depth of power and authority behind it that makes me freeze on the spot.
“Commander Glagrig, Sir!” I turn about on the spot, fixed at attention in the doorway as I stare up at the man himself. “I’m sorry to intrude. I noticed someone had forgotten to close the door so I was just going to secure it.”
“I see.” Glagrig doesn’t seem to believe a word of it, but neither does he seem inclined to press the issue. “At ease. Tell me, do you recognise the man in the photo there? Have you ever seen him before?”
“No, Commander.” I lie reflexively as I shift to a parade rest, not fully knowing why, but knowing that whatever is going on I want no part of it, for me or my brother. It’s only after the fact that it occurs to me that lying might be worse than telling the truth.
“How… regrettable.” The prestige officer says plainly and I can’t tell whether he believes me or not. “If you do ever catch sight of this individual, then be sure to let me know immediately.”
“Y-Yes, Commander.” I subconsciously swallow with apprehension, hoping that he doesn’t notice. I want nothing more than to run away as quickly as I can, but I haven’t been dismissed yet.
“Junior Officer Sawvek, was it?” Glagrig carries on, looking me up and down, dissecting me with his eyes. “You have quite the interesting record on file and Officer Intalran is quite adamant about your potential. Your simulator results speak for themselves, even if they are just simulations.”
“Thank you, Commander.” I can feel myself growing dizzy as I answer with uncertainty.
“Don’t thank me,” the all-consuming void in front of me replies with no hint of warmth, “just remember that your performance is under evaluation. It’s in my interests to keep note of promising young aspirants who might someday join my team, and I would hate to see you squander your talents.”
“I-I understand, Commander.” I flick my tail in agreement, straining not to look away towards the floor.
“Dismissed.” Glagrig brushes past me as he enters his office, moving to shut the door behind himself.
“Um, Commander?” I ask just before the door shuts, feeling a beckoning call of curiosity that even the predatory prestige exterminator couldn’t crush. “If you don’t mind me asking… Why do you have all that stuff up on the wall there?”
The door opens again, just a crack, and I can feel my superiors' weighty presence bearing down on me, almost suffocating in its intensity. “It’s simply a personal matter. I have reason to believe that the prior investigation regarding the kelach incident was conducted according to… insufficient standards. The predator responsible was never found and I intend to remedy that deficiency.”
“How hard could it be to find a kelach?” I tilt my ears in confusion. “They're huge!”
“Despite initial reports,” he answers with an ominous, cold tone that sends a chill up my spine, “it may be possible that we're dealing with something far more dangerous than just a kelach.”
“T-Thank you, Commander.” I flick my tail in appreciation and the door closes.
I breathe a sigh of relief as the malevolent aura recedes. That was too close.
“And you’re a complete moron going back to ask him more questions afterwards, Killer.” The voice rises with amusement. “What? Do you want him to figure you out and turn you to cinders? Only a matter of time, Killer.”
“Ugh, shut up.” I mutter under my breath, quickly turning back around to make sure Commander Glagrig didn’t hear me, but when no reprisal comes I quickly depart. If I’m gonna be stupid I should at least try not to do so right in front of his office.
As the imminent threat of our in-house prestige exterminator dwindles so too does the energy driven by the adrenaline of the encounter. It figures that the moment I roll out of bed I want to take a nap again, but I know the moment I lie back down I’ll be back to full wakefulness in an instant. That’s just how that sort of thing works. With that in mind there’s really only one solution, a big, steaming hot cup of tea.
Making my way towards the tea machine I spot Jonsco, the feisty little primitive that mans our dispatch centre, smacking the top of the dispenser with a clenched paw while holding a mug underneath it.
“Is the tea machine fixed?” I ask as I pull out a mug from the cabinet myself.
Jonsco sighs heavily and shoots me a combative glare. “For the last time it’s not my brahking job to fix this damn tea machine! You got a problem with that then you can go pester someone else about it!”
I shrink back under the harsh rebuke. Jonsco may be small, but there was as much rage and fury condensed into that little package as anyone else in this department. Maybe more.
“I… I didn’t mean to imply…I just wanted to know if it was working again or not… Sorry.” I sputter out, feeling properly admonished as I look away towards the ground.
Jonsco looks at me quizzically, his hard glare softening somewhat as he seems to truly see me for the first time before returning to his usual scowl.
“Right…Whatever you say…” With one final smack the machine coughs and chokes, sputtering to life with a struggle, and a small trickle of freshly brewed tea begins to fill Jonsco’s cup. “The machine is on the fritz again as usual, but if you hit it just right, do a little percussive maintenance, then you can get it started again.”
“Thanks, Jonsco.” I lean back against the wall and watch as the mug slowly fills, impressed by the primitives know-how. “That's actually pretty smart of you.”
“For a ‘primitive’ right?” The words are barbed and spiteful, but lack his typical enthusiasm, more of a simple statement of fact than a real question. I couldn't exactly deny it, those had been my thoughts, and so the silence drags on awkwardly, marked only by the splash of tea falling into the steadily rising pool.
“What are you doing here at this claw anyway?” I eventually ask, dodging the question entirely. “We’ve still got at least another half-claw until our crew's shift is supposed to start.”
“I could ask you the same thing, you know?” The angry little dispatch operator retorts. “I'm here early working an overtime shift so I can afford to put food on my family's table. It's expensive feeding that many mouths. What's your excuse?”
“I had a fight with my brother…” I rub the back of my neck as I turn away abashedly, “moved out of the apartment and into the barracks full time… couldn't sleep…”
“Well then you should hurry up and work on patching things up with him.” Jonsco looks at me with an uncharacteristic hint of sympathy in his eyes. “Your family are the only ones who might actually care. This Gods-damned place is a slyther’s nest and no one here gives a speh about you or your problems. If you want my advice, you should do your best to spend as little time in this cesspool as possible.”
With his cup now full, Jobsco steps back from the machine and begins walking out towards the main hall.
“Thanks, Jonsco.” My words stop him in his tracks as he walks away from me. “I appreciate it.”
“... You're welcome.” He says after a short pause, glancing back to look at me one more time before leaving. “See you around, Sawvek.”
Taking advantage of the tea machine while it’s still mostly working, I fill up my own cup and drink deeply of the warm, fragrant beverage. The taste is bitter and unpleasant, just about the quality I would expect of this Guild Hall, but even at the first taste it’s evident that it’s been loaded with an extra strength dose of caffeine. I down the drink quickly and rinse out the cup before continuing on my journey towards the training hall. Fatigue begins to fall away as I walk, bit by bit as the drug makes its way into my bloodstream, blocking off sleep receptors and energising me. I know I’ll probably pay for it later, no amount of caffeine can actually replace sleep, but for now it feels good and I can see how some people can get addicted to the stuff.
A loud, metallic clanging emanates from the gym as I approach, something unexpected for this time of paw. No one's reserved space in the gym for this claw and not many people are industrious enough to sweat on their own initiative. Peeking my head inside the door I spy Bikim, the perfect, privileged, ‘holier than thou’ brahkass occupying the otherwise empty weight room. His irritatingly handsome face is taut with strain as he performs a series of weighted squats, his back and leg muscles straining underneath his short-cropped wool, and he pants heavily under the exertion.
I’m half tempted just to leave and go back to bed despite the fact that there’s no way I’d be getting any sleep with the tea running through my system. It’s too early in the paw to deal with Bikim’s speh. Before I can slip away unnoticed though, he spots me. I give a heavy sigh and continue my way inside. There's nothing to be done for it now. Trying to back out now would only make things worse later, a sign of weakness.
“What… Do you want… Predator?” Bikim asks between gulps of air as he reracks his weights, practically hanging off the bar to support himself on shaky legs.
“Good paw to you too, Bikim.” I say, forcing civility into my tone. “I’m here to use the equipment. Same as you. I'm allowed.”
“Whatever…” He eyes me with suspicion. “Just keep your distance… I don't want to catch any of your taint.”
“Believe me,” I flick my tail out in irritation, “I intend to.”
Looking around the room for available spots, I march my way over towards a cable machine on the opposite side of the room. Not nearly as far from Bikim as I would like, but the farthest I can get without leaving the weight area entirely. Bikim watches me all the while as I seat myself down and begin adjusting the machine. Eventually he grows tired of watching me fumble around with the machine and returns to his own exercises with a displeased flick of the tail, quite obviously judging me for my lack of experience with the equipment.
A tense sort of quiet settles over the room as we each go about our business, trying our best to ignore one another. Bikim slowly winds his way around the room, cycling from station to station to exercise all the different parts of his body in sequence before repeating it all again. He seems to bypass my corner of the room, glancing over at me with each repetition of his pattern. For myself, I stay put where I am, taking advantage of the varied exercises offered by the versatile machine to experiment with different muscle groups. Occasionally I slip up, dropping the weights with a loud clang that always draws Bikim’s ire. Every time he seems just a bit more disgruntled, a bit less patient. Eventually, the constant disruption reaches a tipping point and the pompous, self-entitled jerk walks over to confront me.
“Do you always do this?” He asks rhetorically. “If you keep slamming the weights like that you're gonna break it. Your form is speh so either fix it or lower the weight so you don't have to keep compensating. Better yet, just leave. You’ve been monopolising the cable machine for almost half a claw now. I don't know why you're even here in the first place.”
“Oh, look at Mr. Know-it-all thinking he can just go around telling us what to do, eh Killer?” The voice rises to the challenge. “Where does a guy like that who's been handed everything his whole life think he can get off with telling us how we should be doing anything?”
“Brahk off Bikim!” I don't even try to reign in the predator inside, feeling justified in letting it roam free for once. “I didn't ask for your advice and you don't get to kick me out of the weight room just because you can't wait your turn! I'm here because I don't have anywhere else to go! Ever since Intalran dragged me into this stupid Guild this brahking job has taken over my entire life! I don't even have a home to go back to anymore!”
Bikim's body tenses at my tirade and his tail flicks out aggressively like a whip.
“That's your own damn fault, predator!” He shouts back, eager for the excuse to vent his own frustrations. “Maybe if you weren't just some blood-starved beast out roaming the streets then you wouldn't be here right now! I’ve read your file! You got a history of herdless behaviour and physical altercations! Someone should have institutionalised you a long time ago, but someone took pity on you and let you slip through the cracks because of your poor dying mommy! They should have known it would come back to bite them! A normal, functional member of the herd wouldn't even think to pick a flamer up off the ground and burn another person to death with it! But you? You did it instinctively! You revelled in it!”
“You think that was easy for me!” I get up and walk towards him as I yell incredulously. “You think I asked for that to happen! You think it was fun for me to get choked out and almost eaten! That thing I burned wasn't even a person anymore! It was a predator in the middle of a feeding frenzy! So yeah, I did what I did, and you know what? It's a good thing I did! If I wasn't a freak of nature then that thing would have kept on going and kept on killing! Last I checked, preventing that sorta thing was supposed to be your job, but I had to be the one to step up! Now I have to live with the consequences of my actions every paw, knowing that I’m a Protector-damned killer that doesn't belong anywhere! Maybe you, in your infinite wisdom, would've known the perfect thing to do in that situation, but I’m not you! I’ve had to work and struggle for every little thing I have! Not just had it handed to me on a silver platter!”
“Oh, so you got me all figured out do you?” Sarcasm drips from Bikim's mouth as he looks down on me. “You don't know me. You don't know my life or what I’ve been through, how hard I’ve worked to get where I am. You just see the end product from cycles of effort and assume that it's always been that way, that it's always been that easy. It hasn't.”
“Yes, I’m sure you had it so hard growing up Bikim.” Saying it aloud almost makes me laugh. “You’re such a child of privilege that it drips off of you with every move you make and every word you say. I hate people like you, thinking that you're better than everyone else just because you were lucky enough to be born into wealth and status. Try living like the other side for a change, scrounging for every credit just so you can afford to eat, and then try to tell me how hard you had it with a full belly and a warm home!”
“You’re right, predator,” Bikim says contemptuously, “I am a child of privilege. My family has a long and decorated military tradition, my father is a captain for the space corps, a brahking hero, and I’ve reaped the benefits of that. That privilege came at a cost though, and that’s called expectations. Second best is not good enough and I've had to put in ten times the effort as anyone else my whole life just to meet standards! At least you grew up with a father who was there for you and loved you without the condition that everything you do is perfect!”
“All that talk about reading my file and you didn't even get past the first page did you?” I snap at him with a snarl. “ I didn't grow up with a father at all! He's been dead since I was in elementary school! Killed in action! I barely even remember him anymore!”
That one seems to give Bikim pause, but I’m not done yet.
“If you and your whole family are such a bunch of brahking heroes then how come you're here, working as a common garrison exterminator in a run-down backwater city like this?” I taunt. “Shouldn't you be out gallantly fighting the Arxur with one of the fleets or on a colony pacification force rather than making my life here harder than it already is?”
“That's the price for failing to meet expectations,” Bikim quiets down, drawing away from the world and into himself, “the price for knocking up a beautiful, wonderful girl right after graduation and refusing to get rid of it afterwards. You get cut off. You lose that privilege, and you do whatever you have to in order to provide and try to be a good role model for your son.”
Now that one threw me for a loop. In the short time I’ve known Bikim I’ve had a lot of thoughts about him, few of them good, but never would I have expected him to be the type to take responsibility… For anything. Still, there is one thing about his story that doesn't line up…
“Oh really?” I take a step back as I watch for his reaction closely. “I seem to recall Jonsco mentioned just the other day that your wife had left you for a Human.”
“Don't you bring that brahking primitive into this!” Bikim's anger flares in an instant before returning to a subtle simmer of regret. “We’ve just been having a… a rough patch in our relationship. I’m not giving up on us. I’ll win her back. She's just… confused and being taken advantage of! It's all that damn predators fault!” Bikim sighs and sits down on a nearby bench. “You're not the only one whose had something taken from them because of this job. You're not the only one without a home to go back to.”
Looking at Bikim now, a sad, pathetic man moping on the bench with nothing better to do on his rest claw than to try to externalise his inner pain… I find it hard to stay angry at him. He's still a narcissistic brahk ass and a complete jerk, but it's hard to truly hate someone when you actually know them. I had made quite a few assumptions about him when we first met, and he certainly hadn't helped my impression of him since, but… perhaps I was wrong to judge him so harshly?
“Nah,” the voice chortles, “he’s a piece of speh that got what he brahking deserves for being an insufferable prick.”
Overhead the intercom crackles to life and I can hear Jonsco's voice reverberating over the airwaves.
“Officers Vaesh and Sawvek please report to the briefing area for assignment. Repeat. Officers Vaesh and Sawvek please report to the briefing area for assignment.”
“Sounds like it's time for your first field assignment, Kid.” Bikim says, staring up at the intercom. “At least it gets you out of my wool. Try not to brahk it up and make the rest of us look bad.”
“Hmph.” I turn to leave, muttering to myself. “Stupid brahkass.”
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A/N - Hello! Sorry this one took a while. Like I mentioned before I got delayed working on my Ficnapping chapter as well as a crossover One-shot that's still in progress (but hopefully will be done soon). In other news we have new art of Sawvek's life-changing encounter in the Builder's Lane Bloodbath as drawn by Miglove and you can still find that and everything else Nature of Family in the new Master Post linked up above.
If you like the story then please remember to upvote, comment, and use the “!Subscribeme” function to be alerted to all new posts. I post as often as I can but real life has a tendency of getting in the way and my job makes it almost impossible to keep to any kind of schedule. Your engagement and support go a long way towards helping to keep me on track and motivated, so thank you very much for reading and I hope you'll stay tuned for next chapter!
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Memory transcription subject: Sawvek, Junior Extermination Officer
Date [standardised human time]: October 5th, 2136
Hard foam presses uncomfortably up against delicate pressure points situated across the length of my entire body, building up to an unbearable ache that makes me shift and turn against the thin mattress pad. I yank at the rough old blanket I’d taken out of storage and clutch it even tighter around my body, trying to keep out the chill. The best racks, the ones near the heating vents, had already been claimed long before I’d decided to move into the Guild House’s Barracks and it doesn’t seem likely that the current occupants will be giving up their spots any time soon.
My mind is still racing from the events of last paw, replaying the scene over and over again in my dreams and in my head. The way my brother had looked at me… That look on his face when he’d seen the real me…
My paw gives a sympathetic throb in memory, still aching from where it had met the wall, but at least I had been able to wrap it up a bit and stop the bleeding. I feel like I should take it as a small miracle that it isn't broken. More medical bills are the last thing I need right now.
I turn about in the bunk once more, rolling around in vain to try and find a comfortable position that doesn’t seem to exist. Through a conscious act of will I try to empty my mind and sleep, but the very act of trying not to think about things only brings them bubbling back up to the surface of my thoughts. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, a damnable drumming sound brought about by the exertion of my own restless tossing and turning. Out in the hallway I can hear the muffled shuffling of feet and murmurs of conversation. The Guild Hall never sleeps, and it seems that neither would I this paw.
Electing to abandon the attempt as hopeless, I cut my rest claw short and get up, venturing out into the hallway. If I can’t sleep anyway then I might as well start my waking claw early, maybe get in a little exercise. It’s not so bad when it’s self-directed, almost fun in a way. If our family had the money to support it then maybe I could have been an athlete of some variety growing up. I had always possessed something of a natural physicality.
“Stop wasting time with worthless questions about what could have been, Killer.” The voice interjects, early and active today by the sound of it. “You’ll never amount to anything more than a wild predator kept on a leash.”
There’s nothing to do but sigh and carry on. It was right after all. This is it. This is my life now.
Making my way down the hallway towards the gym I find myself walking past a row of private offices assigned to some of the more veteran officers on staff. Most are empty at this claw, their occupants either asleep or off doing other work. One room in particular catches my attention though, the one belonging to our newest PRED Team Commander.
The door leading inside is open and ajar, seemingly forgotten in the midst of more pressing business and granting me a look inside. The entire room is a mess, papers and binders strewn about everywhere with official looking documents littering the floor. A map of the city decorates the otherwise unadorned and impersonal space. On its face it hosts a variety of multicoloured pins, all connecting seemingly arbitrary locations as well as photographs of people and places from the records department. The face of the former PRED Team Commander, Vrienna, looks out at me once again with the same cruel eyes that decorate the memorial wall. Beside her photo are another pair of eyes, a pair I recognise, but not one I would have expected to see here.
Trilvri, my brother’s creepy coworker, the one who’d brought him home the night he’d drunk himself into a stupor, stares out at me from the wall. He was younger in this photo, barely of age, if even that, and dressed in a regulation space corps flight suit, but I could still recognise him. Trilvri’s eyes appear somehow more lively than when I had met him in person, though it does nothing to improve his overall disposition, looking, as they are, as if behind them resides only hatred and a feral desire to kill and rend. Come to think of it, he had mentioned he used to be in the corps hadn’t he? ‘Used to’ being the operative word. When I’d asked he hadn’t seemed particularly fond of his time in the service…
Situated as he is next to Vrienna like that, their pitch-black wool and evil-looking eyes bear a striking resemblance. It was the exact same sort of predatory expression that bore into your soul, the kind that made me feel weak and exposed, the same kind that was worn by-
“What do you think you’re doing in my office?” A voice asks from behind, nonplussed, but with a casual depth of power and authority behind it that makes me freeze on the spot.
“Commander Glagrig, Sir!” I turn about on the spot, fixed at attention in the doorway as I stare up at the man himself. “I’m sorry to intrude. I noticed someone had forgotten to close the door so I was just going to secure it.”
“I see.” Glagrig doesn’t seem to believe a word of it, but neither does he seem inclined to press the issue. “At ease. Tell me, do you recognise the man in the photo there? Have you ever seen him before?”
“No, Commander.” I lie reflexively as I shift to a parade rest, not fully knowing why, but knowing that whatever is going on I want no part of it, for me or my brother. It’s only after the fact that it occurs to me that lying might be worse than telling the truth.
“How… regrettable.” The prestige officer says plainly and I can’t tell whether he believes me or not. “If you do ever catch sight of this individual, then be sure to let me know immediately.”
“Y-Yes, Commander.” I subconsciously swallow with apprehension, hoping that he doesn’t notice. I want nothing more than to run away as quickly as I can, but I haven’t been dismissed yet.
“Junior Officer Sawvek, was it?” Glagrig carries on, looking me up and down, dissecting me with his eyes. “You have quite the interesting record on file and Officer Intalran is quite adamant about your potential. Your simulator results speak for themselves, even if they are just simulations.”
“Thank you, Commander.” I can feel myself growing dizzy as I answer with uncertainty.
“Don’t thank me,” the all-consuming void in front of me replies with no hint of warmth, “just remember that your performance is under evaluation. It’s in my interests to keep note of promising young aspirants who might someday join my team, and I would hate to see you squander your talents.”
“I-I understand, Commander.” I flick my tail in agreement, straining not to look away towards the floor.
“Dismissed.” Glagrig brushes past me as he enters his office, moving to shut the door behind himself.
“Um, Commander?” I ask just before the door shuts, feeling a beckoning call of curiosity that even the predatory prestige exterminator couldn’t crush. “If you don’t mind me asking… Why do you have all that stuff up on the wall there?”
The door opens again, just a crack, and I can feel my superiors' weighty presence bearing down on me, almost suffocating in its intensity. “It’s simply a personal matter. I have reason to believe that the prior investigation regarding the kelach incident was conducted according to… insufficient standards. The predator responsible was never found and I intend to remedy that deficiency.”
“How hard could it be to find a kelach?” I tilt my ears in confusion. “They're huge!”
“Despite initial reports,” he answers with an ominous, cold tone that sends a chill up my spine, “it may be possible that we're dealing with something far more dangerous than just a kelach.”
“T-Thank you, Commander.” I flick my tail in appreciation and the door closes.
I breathe a sigh of relief as the malevolent aura recedes. That was too close.
“And you’re a complete moron going back to ask him more questions afterwards, Killer.” The voice rises with amusement. “What? Do you want him to figure you out and turn you to cinders? Only a matter of time, Killer.”
“Ugh, shut up.” I mutter under my breath, quickly turning back around to make sure Commander Glagrig didn’t hear me, but when no reprisal comes I quickly depart. If I’m gonna be stupid I should at least try not to do so right in front of his office.
As the imminent threat of our in-house prestige exterminator dwindles so too does the energy driven by the adrenaline of the encounter. It figures that the moment I roll out of bed I want to take a nap again, but I know the moment I lie back down I’ll be back to full wakefulness in an instant. That’s just how that sort of thing works. With that in mind there’s really only one solution, a big, steaming hot cup of tea.
Making my way towards the tea machine I spot Jonsco, the feisty little primitive that mans our dispatch centre, smacking the top of the dispenser with a clenched paw while holding a mug underneath it.
“Is the tea machine fixed?” I ask as I pull out a mug from the cabinet myself.
Jonsco sighs heavily and shoots me a combative glare. “For the last time it’s not my brahking job to fix this damn tea machine! You got a problem with that then you can go pester someone else about it!”
I shrink back under the harsh rebuke. Jonsco may be small, but there was as much rage and fury condensed into that little package as anyone else in this department. Maybe more.
“I… I didn’t mean to imply…I just wanted to know if it was working again or not… Sorry.” I sputter out, feeling properly admonished as I look away towards the ground.
Jonsco looks at me quizzically, his hard glare softening somewhat as he seems to truly see me for the first time before returning to his usual scowl.
“Right…Whatever you say…” With one final smack the machine coughs and chokes, sputtering to life with a struggle, and a small trickle of freshly brewed tea begins to fill Jonsco’s cup. “The machine is on the fritz again as usual, but if you hit it just right, do a little percussive maintenance, then you can get it started again.”
“Thanks, Jonsco.” I lean back against the wall and watch as the mug slowly fills, impressed by the primitives know-how. “That's actually pretty smart of you.”
“For a ‘primitive’ right?” The words are barbed and spiteful, but lack his typical enthusiasm, more of a simple statement of fact than a real question. I couldn't exactly deny it, those had been my thoughts, and so the silence drags on awkwardly, marked only by the splash of tea falling into the steadily rising pool.
“What are you doing here at this claw anyway?” I eventually ask, dodging the question entirely. “We’ve still got at least another half-claw until our crew's shift is supposed to start.”
“I could ask you the same thing, you know?” The angry little dispatch operator retorts. “I'm here early working an overtime shift so I can afford to put food on my family's table. It's expensive feeding that many mouths. What's your excuse?”
“I had a fight with my brother…” I rub the back of my neck as I turn away abashedly, “moved out of the apartment and into the barracks full time… couldn't sleep…”
“Well then you should hurry up and work on patching things up with him.” Jonsco looks at me with an uncharacteristic hint of sympathy in his eyes. “Your family are the only ones who might actually care. This Gods-damned place is a slyther’s nest and no one here gives a speh about you or your problems. If you want my advice, you should do your best to spend as little time in this cesspool as possible.”
With his cup now full, Jobsco steps back from the machine and begins walking out towards the main hall.
“Thanks, Jonsco.” My words stop him in his tracks as he walks away from me. “I appreciate it.”
“... You're welcome.” He says after a short pause, glancing back to look at me one more time before leaving. “See you around, Sawvek.”
Taking advantage of the tea machine while it’s still mostly working, I fill up my own cup and drink deeply of the warm, fragrant beverage. The taste is bitter and unpleasant, just about the quality I would expect of this Guild Hall, but even at the first taste it’s evident that it’s been loaded with an extra strength dose of caffeine. I down the drink quickly and rinse out the cup before continuing on my journey towards the training hall. Fatigue begins to fall away as I walk, bit by bit as the drug makes its way into my bloodstream, blocking off sleep receptors and energising me. I know I’ll probably pay for it later, no amount of caffeine can actually replace sleep, but for now it feels good and I can see how some people can get addicted to the stuff.
A loud, metallic clanging emanates from the gym as I approach, something unexpected for this time of paw. No one's reserved space in the gym for this claw and not many people are industrious enough to sweat on their own initiative. Peeking my head inside the door I spy Bikim, the perfect, privileged, ‘holier than thou’ brahkass occupying the otherwise empty weight room. His irritatingly handsome face is taut with strain as he performs a series of weighted squats, his back and leg muscles straining underneath his short-cropped wool, and he pants heavily under the exertion.
I’m half tempted just to leave and go back to bed despite the fact that there’s no way I’d be getting any sleep with the tea running through my system. It’s too early in the paw to deal with Bikim’s speh. Before I can slip away unnoticed though, he spots me. I give a heavy sigh and continue my way inside. There's nothing to be done for it now. Trying to back out now would only make things worse later, a sign of weakness.
“What… Do you want… Predator?” Bikim asks between gulps of air as he reracks his weights, practically hanging off the bar to support himself on shaky legs.
“Good paw to you too, Bikim.” I say, forcing civility into my tone. “I’m here to use the equipment. Same as you. I'm allowed.”
“Whatever…” He eyes me with suspicion. “Just keep your distance… I don't want to catch any of your taint.”
“Believe me,” I flick my tail out in irritation, “I intend to.”
Looking around the room for available spots, I march my way over towards a cable machine on the opposite side of the room. Not nearly as far from Bikim as I would like, but the farthest I can get without leaving the weight area entirely. Bikim watches me all the while as I seat myself down and begin adjusting the machine. Eventually he grows tired of watching me fumble around with the machine and returns to his own exercises with a displeased flick of the tail, quite obviously judging me for my lack of experience with the equipment.
A tense sort of quiet settles over the room as we each go about our business, trying our best to ignore one another. Bikim slowly winds his way around the room, cycling from station to station to exercise all the different parts of his body in sequence before repeating it all again. He seems to bypass my corner of the room, glancing over at me with each repetition of his pattern. For myself, I stay put where I am, taking advantage of the varied exercises offered by the versatile machine to experiment with different muscle groups. Occasionally I slip up, dropping the weights with a loud clang that always draws Bikim’s ire. Every time he seems just a bit more disgruntled, a bit less patient. Eventually, the constant disruption reaches a tipping point and the pompous, self-entitled jerk walks over to confront me.
“Do you always do this?” He asks rhetorically. “If you keep slamming the weights like that you're gonna break it. Your form is speh so either fix it or lower the weight so you don't have to keep compensating. Better yet, just leave. You’ve been monopolising the cable machine for almost half a claw now. I don't know why you're even here in the first place.”
“Oh, look at Mr. Know-it-all thinking he can just go around telling us what to do, eh Killer?” The voice rises to the challenge. “Where does a guy like that who's been handed everything his whole life think he can get off with telling us how we should be doing anything?”
“Brahk off Bikim!” I don't even try to reign in the predator inside, feeling justified in letting it roam free for once. “I didn't ask for your advice and you don't get to kick me out of the weight room just because you can't wait your turn! I'm here because I don't have anywhere else to go! Ever since Intalran dragged me into this stupid Guild this brahking job has taken over my entire life! I don't even have a home to go back to anymore!”
Bikim's body tenses at my tirade and his tail flicks out aggressively like a whip.
“That's your own damn fault, predator!” He shouts back, eager for the excuse to vent his own frustrations. “Maybe if you weren't just some blood-starved beast out roaming the streets then you wouldn't be here right now! I’ve read your file! You got a history of herdless behaviour and physical altercations! Someone should have institutionalised you a long time ago, but someone took pity on you and let you slip through the cracks because of your poor dying mommy! They should have known it would come back to bite them! A normal, functional member of the herd wouldn't even think to pick a flamer up off the ground and burn another person to death with it! But you? You did it instinctively! You revelled in it!”
“You think that was easy for me!” I get up and walk towards him as I yell incredulously. “You think I asked for that to happen! You think it was fun for me to get choked out and almost eaten! That thing I burned wasn't even a person anymore! It was a predator in the middle of a feeding frenzy! So yeah, I did what I did, and you know what? It's a good thing I did! If I wasn't a freak of nature then that thing would have kept on going and kept on killing! Last I checked, preventing that sorta thing was supposed to be your job, but I had to be the one to step up! Now I have to live with the consequences of my actions every paw, knowing that I’m a Protector-damned killer that doesn't belong anywhere! Maybe you, in your infinite wisdom, would've known the perfect thing to do in that situation, but I’m not you! I’ve had to work and struggle for every little thing I have! Not just had it handed to me on a silver platter!”
“Oh, so you got me all figured out do you?” Sarcasm drips from Bikim's mouth as he looks down on me. “You don't know me. You don't know my life or what I’ve been through, how hard I’ve worked to get where I am. You just see the end product from cycles of effort and assume that it's always been that way, that it's always been that easy. It hasn't.”
“Yes, I’m sure you had it so hard growing up Bikim.” Saying it aloud almost makes me laugh. “You’re such a child of privilege that it drips off of you with every move you make and every word you say. I hate people like you, thinking that you're better than everyone else just because you were lucky enough to be born into wealth and status. Try living like the other side for a change, scrounging for every credit just so you can afford to eat, and then try to tell me how hard you had it with a full belly and a warm home!”
“You’re right, predator,” Bikim says contemptuously, “I am a child of privilege. My family has a long and decorated military tradition, my father is a captain for the space corps, a brahking hero, and I’ve reaped the benefits of that. That privilege came at a cost though, and that’s called expectations. Second best is not good enough and I've had to put in ten times the effort as anyone else my whole life just to meet standards! At least you grew up with a father who was there for you and loved you without the condition that everything you do is perfect!”
“All that talk about reading my file and you didn't even get past the first page did you?” I snap at him with a snarl. “ I didn't grow up with a father at all! He's been dead since I was in elementary school! Killed in action! I barely even remember him anymore!”
That one seems to give Bikim pause, but I’m not done yet.
“If you and your whole family are such a bunch of brahking heroes then how come you're here, working as a common garrison exterminator in a run-down backwater city like this?” I taunt. “Shouldn't you be out gallantly fighting the Arxur with one of the fleets or on a colony pacification force rather than making my life here harder than it already is?”
“That's the price for failing to meet expectations,” Bikim quiets down, drawing away from the world and into himself, “the price for knocking up a beautiful, wonderful girl right after graduation and refusing to get rid of it afterwards. You get cut off. You lose that privilege, and you do whatever you have to in order to provide and try to be a good role model for your son.”
Now that one threw me for a loop. In the short time I’ve known Bikim I’ve had a lot of thoughts about him, few of them good, but never would I have expected him to be the type to take responsibility… For anything. Still, there is one thing about his story that doesn't line up…
“Oh really?” I take a step back as I watch for his reaction closely. “I seem to recall Jonsco mentioned just the other day that your wife had left you for a Human.”
“Don't you bring that brahking primitive into this!” Bikim's anger flares in an instant before returning to a subtle simmer of regret. “We’ve just been having a… a rough patch in our relationship. I’m not giving up on us. I’ll win her back. She's just… confused and being taken advantage of! It's all that damn predators fault!” Bikim sighs and sits down on a nearby bench. “You're not the only one whose had something taken from them because of this job. You're not the only one without a home to go back to.”
Looking at Bikim now, a sad, pathetic man moping on the bench with nothing better to do on his rest claw than to try to externalise his inner pain… I find it hard to stay angry at him. He's still a narcissistic brahk ass and a complete jerk, but it's hard to truly hate someone when you actually know them. I had made quite a few assumptions about him when we first met, and he certainly hadn't helped my impression of him since, but… perhaps I was wrong to judge him so harshly?
“Nah,” the voice chortles, “he’s a piece of speh that got what he brahking deserves for being an insufferable prick.”
Overhead the intercom crackles to life and I can hear Jonsco's voice reverberating over the airwaves.
“Officers Vaesh and Sawvek please report to the briefing area for assignment. Repeat. Officers Vaesh and Sawvek please report to the briefing area for assignment.”
“Sounds like it's time for your first field assignment, Kid.” Bikim says, staring up at the intercom. “At least it gets you out of my wool. Try not to brahk it up and make the rest of us look bad.”
“Hmph.” I turn to leave, muttering to myself. “Stupid brahkass.”
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A/N - Hello! Sorry this one took a while. Like I mentioned before I got delayed working on my Ficnapping chapter as well as a crossover One-shot that's still in progress (but hopefully will be done soon). In other news we have new art of Sawvek's life-changing encounter in the Builder's Lane Bloodbath as drawn by Miglove and you can still find that and everything else Nature of Family in the new Master Post linked up above.
If you like the story then please remember to upvote, comment, and use the “!Subscribeme” function to be alerted to all new posts. I post as often as I can but real life has a tendency of getting in the way and my job makes it almost impossible to keep to any kind of schedule. Your engagement and support go a long way towards helping to keep me on track and motivated, so thank you very much for reading and I hope you'll stay tuned for next chapter!
2024.05.15 21:48 Nora_Clybourn [RF] Will for Adventure
Part 1
Chicago, 2016. Flinn Gerald is doing his best to make it in the city. Born in Selma, Alabama, he has spent his entire life trying to escape the ever tightening grasp of his small town. But alas, he made it out and is adapting to life in the big city. With a big fancy corporate job, an endless supply of friends, an apartment with a stunning view of the lake, and great distance from his family, what more could he need? Well, there is a lot more (or less) that he needs, but of course that is a story for later.
On a typical Tuesday night at a bar, the regulars crowd in. Flinn is late, as usual, as he stayed late at work (again), but on his arrival, the cheers and hugs from all the friends make everyone forget of the regular inconvenience. Conversation ensued, starting with all the boring finance jargon, but as the drinks flowed, so did the conversation, moving away from work and more into life. This is what everyone preferred.
“Another round, anyone?” asked Raheem, enthusiastically. After a murmur of concurrence, he stood up to make his way up to the bar. “Flinn, care to lend a hand?”
Raheem Bartlett was Flinn’s college roommate and the first person he met outside of his hometown. The pair hit it off instantly despite having wildly different backgrounds. Even in their freshman year, the engineer and the finance major would get into all sorts of trouble together, but eventually they leveled out. Six years later, they still have each other’s backs just like day one.
The pair made their way up to the bar and waited to get the bartender's attention. “What's up with you, bro?” asked Raheem. “You’ve been seeming a bit off.”
“Oh, ya know. Work, life, everything kinda happens so fast. Work has been busy as of late, and the hours long.”
Seeming displeased by this answer, Raheem stared back in concern.
“Really, I’m fine… just long hours.”
“Back in school you’d pull back to back all-nighters and then still make it to a morning class. I find it hard to believe that the mighty Flinn would be so setback by ‘long hours’.”
Flinn took a moment to ponder, staring down at the bar covered in various stamps and postcards beneath the epoxy surface. “I guess, ya know, it's not all it was cracked up to be. I guess I had expected more.” Flinn had mostly dropped his accent, but occasionally it would still slip out.
Despite coming from a long line of mill workers (mostly paper) and farm hands who never ventured further than the Dallas county line, Flinn yearned to leave his small town and conquer the world from a young age. Coming from the poorest county in Alabama, his family always squashed his dreams, labeling them as impossible. But Flinn knew better. Or, at least he knew he could do better. Graduating top of his class a year early and winning a full-ride scholarship to Northwestern University, he had proved everyone wrong and set his own path. The path he was told was impossible became his reality.
“More what?”
“Nothing, really. I mean, what more is there? This is what I always wanted, right? The stable job in the city, never having to worry about money. It’s great, and I couldn’t be more grateful, but… something is missing. Doing the same thing day after day staring at a screen, moving clients money around. I… just hoped it would be more fulfilling, especially after all it took to get here.”
Before he could finish his thought, the bartender came up to take their order: another round for the table, plus a round of shots, plus two more shots.
“What am I saying, really?” added Flinn. “I shouldn’t be complaining. Look at where I am now compared to six years ago. So much has changed. My home, friends, even my diet. I just feel a bit off. Like I need something more to do..
“I get it, bro. Adjusting to your new life can be rough. Enjoy it for a minute or two.” Raheem slides a shot in front of Flinn. “Here, take this.”
Tuesday had become fairly consistent to this point for this group of misfits: Raheem and his girlfriend Amy; Jack; Jasper, from Flinn’s firm, and his wife Max; and of course, Flinn. For nearly two years, these six have been meeting at O’Malley’s every Tuesday night for drinks and trivia. Some nights are more wild than others, but Tuesday has become the staple of the week among them.
Drinks flowed pretty regularly and heavy over the next few hours as the clock approached the end of day. Still going round for round on alternating tabs, the useless debates began to heat up.
“You can’t seriously think Wicker Park is the best neighborhood outside the Loop. Y’all need to get out more,” said Flinn.
“Bro it’s obviously Wicker Park,” argued Raheem.” Right on the blue line, getting to O’Hare is insanely easy, plus you can’t find better music in the city. Besides, Wicker Park has Davenport’s.”
“No one ever says Wicker Park,” adds Jack. “Have you ever heard someone say Wicker Park before?”
“Dude, but you can obviously get to O’Hare from anywhere in the city,” said Flinn
“Sure, but beats walking through that dumb Block 37 Center transfer like you and your red line. No transfer is the way to go, plus the blue line gets you right to the center of the loop.”
“So does every other L line as long as ya don’t mind walking a few blocks!”
“You’re both wrong,” adds Max. “Neither matters because Midway is better anyways.”
“Woah!” the whole table murmurs, sharing shocked looks as if she just confessed to a crime. Flinn rolled his eyes at this notion.
“Who flies out of Midway?” asks Raheem.
“What? Less people, cheaper flights, and more space. Why wouldn’t I fly out of Midway?” said Max.
“Wait, wait, that aside,” interrupts Raheem, “can we go back to the fact that Jasper thinks Sheffield is the best neighborhood? I feel like we moved past that too quickly.”
The debate rages on for many more minutes, until Flinn, seemingly out of nowhere, had enough.
“Can y’all just shut the fuck up! Why does it even matter?” Everyone’s glance quickly shot over to Flinn as a deafening silence overtook the table. Everyone pondered how to respond, and couldn’t seem to find an answer. This behavior from Flinn was unexpected, nay, unheard of. Flinn was the most level headed amongst them by far. Not even Raheem, his best friend of six years, had ever seen him get angry, let alone over an inconsequential friendly argument. “I…” Not even Flinn knew what to say next. “I’m going to go home. Long day tomorrow.” Already on his feet, he quickly walked away from the table and out the door.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The walk home was fairly brisk, but Flinn had grown fond of the cold. He tucked his hands into his coat pocket and hunched his shoulders forward, only looking down at the pavement ignoring the mostly asleep but still wide awake city surrounding him. His thoughts ran wild and near out of control. Of course, his intoxication did not help with clarity, but the inner dialogue was deafening. Not even he knew what was bothering him, but he was obviously bothered, deeply. He made a fool of himself in a way he never had before, and right now he felt he did not recognize himself. Surely some sleep will help, right?
He slowly made his way down the steps to the platform, carefully watching each step as to not fall, to wait for his train. He posted up against a pillar and stared off onto the dark, empty tracks. What has gotten into me? He did his best to calm his racing, wasted mind searching for some legibility amongst his thoughts.
Once he finally got home, he slumped down on the couch and scarfed down some week-old sushi he found in the fridge. He turned on some old documentary and was asleep before he knew it.
Suddenly, he was woken up by his phone ringing. It usually does not ring this time of night and was less than thrilled to be woken, so he let it keep ringing. It stopped after a couple of seconds, and he glanced down at the screen:
Mama
(2) missed calls
Dad
(1) missed call
Now concerned, he calls his mom back in a hurry. “Hello?”
“Flinn? Your grandfather, he’s dead.”
Part 2
The wet air engulfed Flinn’s face as he stepped out the airport doors into a warm February day. Six years had passed since he smelled the Alabama air. Even after all this time, it still smells just as he had remembered as if not even a day had passed. The drive to Selma was another ninety minutes, and despite having five days to mentally prepare himself for his arrival, it was not nearly enough time. He had not seen or spoken to anyone from his town, not even family, since he left early that August morning all those years ago. He left everything behind to start his new life. The life so many told him to not start, that he needed to stay. He left anyway and never looked back.
That was, until now. He had little choice in this regard. He knew he would have to make his return someday, but he knew not when nor for what. But today was that day. Flinn and his grandfather (Pops) had always been close. If anyone had been supportive of him, it’d have been Pops, but he was a man of little words. Even when he could talk, he hardly chose to. He was a great listener, and not just because he could not speak. He showed he was engaged and listening no matter what Flinn had to say. At times, he felt Pops was the only one who understood him as if he had been just like him before, but no one would ever talk about his past. All Flinn knew is Pops lost his tongue after a failed lynching.
The familiarity of the scenery zipping past was bittersweet. He had not realized how much he missed the rolling hills and thick forests beneath the unforgiving southern sky. He kept his head pressed against the cool glass of the car window even through the constant bumps in the road. He couldn’t look away. So many memories happened here, and the closer he got, the more plentiful the memories became, and the more potent they were, and the more painful they’d become.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the dust settled behind him, he stood on the driveway staring at his childhood home still unsure how to process his emotions. It was all so overwhelming. He was thinking everything at once. He took a deep breath, rolled back his shoulders, and swallowed. He reached for the door handle, hesitating slightly, and took a step in. One foot, and then the next.
“Martin!” Flinn smiled as his old friend and childhood dog rushed towards him without hesitation. He knelt down and embraced him as Martin excitedly rustled through his arms seemingly showing more energy than he had in years.
He walked down the hall and around the corner into the living room. There, both drawn to the large television like moths to a flame, he saw his parents sitting beside one another on the couch watching some daytime program with their backs to him. They seemed to pay no notice to the commotion at the front door nor the loud creaking footsteps he took along the old wooden floors. They knew he was there; they just chose to ignore him. He walked into view to greet them. "Mama, dad." His father smiled slightly but caught himself and refrained.
Mama kept a straight face, but seemed to be fighting tears."Howard, help Flinn with his bags, dear."
“No, it's alright, I know where to take them,” said Flinn. “How are y’all?”
“Service is tomorrow at eleven down at the ole First Baptist Church. Make sure to wear something nice.”
“Alright, mama. I’ll... I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Whole family is coming tonight. Dinner is served at...”
“At seven, I got it, just as always.”
“It’s good to see you, kid.” said his dad. “Let me know if you need anything”
He did not expect things to go like that, not that he knew what to expect. He had hoped time would have been more forgiving. Perhaps leaving unannounced in the middle of the night was not the best plan, but at the time he felt as if he had no other choice. Everyone knew he was leaving. That was no secret and had not been for years before any plan had actually been set into motion. No one knew the date or time, except for Pops, of course, but he’d never tell. Of course he wanted everyone to know. He wanted everyone to be proud of him, but it was too big of a risk and commendations were too much to expect. Besides, Mama always had her schemes, and had she known, she would have found a way to stop him.
Not much had changed since he’d been here last. The old wood paneling still lined nearly all the walls, crack in some spots, replaced in others, but all coated by decades of cigarette soot. On the walls were a combination of family portraits from over the years and cheap artwork found at the flea market. Old green furniture, too many house plants to count, and a tacky themed kitchen, it was all still the same.
His childhood bedroom, however, was much different. Hardly even recognizable, what was once his bedroom was now a storage room filled with endless shelves and boxes. He set his things on the lonely cot in the corner, sat down, and took it all in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not realizing he had drifted off, Flinn awoke and looked at the clock. 6:55. Convenient. He sat up and brushed his hair down with his hand as he suspected it was sticking up in the usual way. He rubbed his eyes and made his way to the dining room. The whole family was there, probably about twenty people or so, all scattered about throughout the kitchen, dining room, and living room engaged in various conversations. His nana, aunt, and Mama were cooking away putting the final touches on the large meal.
“Well if it isn’t this fucker…” said a familiar voice to his left, laughing. Flinn looked over to see his cousin who’s just a year younger than him.
“DeAndre, how are you?”
“Never thought I’d see you again, even since you left. Thought maybe you ‘ood be dead.”
“Nah,” Flinn laughed. “Still very much alive.”
“I can see dat. Wearin’ your fancy suit and all.”
“Yeah I’ve been doing pretty well. Work has been… good. I have a great job at a finance firm in Chicago. Everything has been… Good. Yeah, good. How about you?”
“Now you ain’t goin’ city on us, are you?”
Flinn laughed. “I think I might already be.”
Just as dinner was finishing up, a line started to form and people found a seat wherever they could, be it at the table, on the couch, near the counter, or outside.
“Flinn!” his dad called out. “I saved ya a seat here at the table, kid.”
Flinn took his seat right next to his dad which positioned him right across from Mama. The table could sit eight, and the seats filled in pretty quickly so he was lucky to get one. Besides his sister, all of the oldest family members took the other four chairs.
The dinner itself was mostly uneventful, except for the food of course which was extraordinary. Flinn had not eaten Mama’s cooking, or anything like it in six years. The southern food in Chicago was alright, but nothing like what you can get down here, and no restaurant is going to have the same quality and taste as a home-cooked meal. By God, he had not realized how much he needed this. It was almost healing, like a part of his soul had been lost and he found it once again. The last week had been incredibly overwhelming, and last Saturday he never foresaw being here now, but he was glad he was, regardless of the looming tension. All the stress from work and life back home in Chicago was now all gone. All he had to worry about was… oh yeah, the family drama. The dreaded interactions, what he had suppressed for so long, that had kept him up at night for years. All those long nights doing homework or anything else beside sleeping. They had not been by choice but rather necessity. He would have slept more if he could, and some of those nights he really needed to, but instead was kept motivated by the pain. The pain of knowing no matter what he did, no matter how successful in life he became, he would never be good enough for his family, good enough for Mama, because he left them.
If there ever was a time to clear his conscience and get everything out of the way, it would be today, or at least over the next couple of days. When else would he have the chance? Not that any of this had been planned, and his therapist would probably advise against it. She did not even know he was here. What would she have to say? Avoiding conflict has always been his choice. He has always been quiet, never been at the center of drama, but some things need to be said. Just, maybe not by him. If he waited long enough, perhaps they would come up on their own. So he decided to wait, but he knew time was limited and he could not wait forever.
“Mama, could you pass the butter?”
Mama just stared back at him. “Get ya own damn buttah, since ya can do everything else on ya own.”
Flinn stands up and reaches for the butter. “I can do everything myself, and I have. I hope you’re proud, Mama.”
“Proud? What do I have to be proud of?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe my job, my degree, everything I have been able to do to build a good life for myself.”
“I don hear anything worthy of praise.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mama.”
“Oh, so now you’re sorry? You could’ve fooled me. Is that how you felt when you left? Unbelievable.”
“I left because I had no other choice.”
“Oh don go lyin’ to me now. You did have a choice. You had a choice and you chose to leave us. You didn’t say goodbye, and you were just gone in the mornin’.”
“If I had not just left, you would’ve stopped me.”
“Cause you ain’t got no reason to go nowhere.”
“I had plenty of reasons to want to leave, and not because of you. I’ve always had dreams, Mama, ya know that. I’ve always been bigger than just this town.”
“Oh, so now you’re too good for us, city boy? Huh? I don wanna hear no more of it.”
“It wasn’t about that, Mama. Look at all I’ve been able to do.”
“I ain’t see nothin’. You never call and you never visit. How am I supposed to know what you been doin’?”
“I thought you didn’t want me coming around any more?”
“Well, you’ve got that right. Glad to see you still have some brains left.”
“Well excuse me. Maybe it's best if I leave again. Sorry I ain’t make you proud, Mama.” Flinn got up and left the table.
Part 3
Just as the early light began to peak through the blinds, Flinn was woken up by a firm knock at his door. “Flinn, may I come in? It's Uncle Terrence.”
Flinn sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Yep, come in.”
“How are you this morning, kid? Ya know, she’ll never admit it, but ya Mama missed ya.”
“I find it hard to believe.” Deep down Flinn knew it was true, but she was hard as a rock, and arrogant. She would always find a way to be right, even when she knew she was wrong, and she would never let you know she knew she was wrong.
“Well, we’re all proud of you, kid.” Flinn hated when Terrence and everyone called him kid. “Just wish yoo’d come around and see us every once in a while. I know ya busy with all the big city stuff and all.”
“I thought no one wanted anything to do with me any more?”
“At first, maybe, but I miss ya, kid. Ya know who missed ya most of all?”
“Pops?”
“Yes, of course. He always wanted to know about ya, every time I’d come round. He couldn’t call, but always wanted me to.”
“I should have called.”
“I think everyone wanted to call, but as time went on, it became harder and harder to push that button. It was already so hard at first, and only got harder.”
“I thought about everyone a lot, especially at first. Leaving was really hard, and I almost didn’t, but I always wanted more. I didn’t want to spend my whole life in this town, and if I had not left when I did I probably never would have. But it was still hard. I wanted to go home so many times, but I convinced myself no one wanted me here no more or that y’all would’ve said ‘I told ya so’ or sum bullshit. No one wanted me around any more and I had left, so I was stuck on the path I chose. And I’m happy, and I’ve done so much, but it’s never been easy.”
“Pops was a lot like you when he was your age. Set on leaving as quickly as he could. Things were different back then, not that they are any better now, but Hank... my brother… Pops, was just like you.”
“What changed?”
“Well, he never did. Just no one talks about it anymore. After what happened on that day, they blamed his behavior. Said he should’ve played it safe and he’d still have his tongue.”
“No one has ever told me the story.”
“And they won’t. It changed the whole family.”
“But you’ll tell me?”
“Only if you promise not to tell. I don need an earful from ya Mama.”
“I promise.”
“Hank couldn’t be confined to Selma, just like you. He joined the army right out of high school, and after he was done in Lebanon, he didn’t go straight home.”
“Where did he go?”
“Everywhere but here. He used the small amount of money he got from the army and went anywhere that would let him in. Across Europe, parts of Asia, Northern Africa, even parts of South America. Of course, a young black man traveling by himself at the time was challenging, but Hank could hold his own pretty well. He still ran into all sorts of trouble. He spent more nights in jail than he would have liked, but he would have done it all again if he could.”
“What happened when he got back?”
“He was much different, but for the better. He couldn’t wait to get back out there again. He had confidence like I had never seen before. That’s what got him in trouble not too long after.”
“How’d he lose his tongue? I’m guessing that is what changed everything.”
“When he got back, he got involved with a girl, I think her name was Susan. She was the mayor’s daughter. They snuck around for a while. Their relationship was not acceptable, especially to her father. If he found out, Hank would be in a lot of trouble, and of course eventually he did find out. He spent about a month in jail in just awful conditions even for the time. They didn’t have anything to hold him on so eventually they had to let him go. About a week after he got out, he was walking downtown and some guys grabbed him. He took him out to a field and tried to lynch him. Luckily, they failed and he survived, but they took his tongue as a warning. He was never the same after that. All of his confidence was gone, and of course he couldn’t speak no more.”
Flinn did not know how to respond. It all made sense now: why the family so desperately wanted him to stay, why they were so hurt by him leaving, and why they’d feared who he was becoming. They were all traumatized and wanted to protect him. They did not want him to suffer the same fate as Pops.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The funeral itself was fairly uneventful and went nearly as perfectly as expected. The church filled in with hardly any empty seats, tears were shed, and speeches were given. Pops touched the lives of almost everyone he met, and they came to show it. After the service was the reception, and yet again, the food was spectacular. Everyone got along just fine today and there was no more residual drama, at least for now. Today was Pops’ day.
After the reception, the family gathered back at Mama’s house for the reading of the will. Pops did not have many possessions, at least not of monetary value, but what he did have was meaningful in other ways. He was very clear on who he wanted to give off, and handpicked what would be most substantial to each person.
Everyone gathered around much as they did at dinner, and the lawyer began his reading:
I, Hank Gerald, a resident in the City of Selma, County of Dallas, State of Alabama, being of sound mind, not acting under duress or undue influence, and fully understanding the nature and extent of all my property and of this disposition thereof, hereby make, publish, and declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament, and hereby absolutely revoke any and all other wills and amendments previously made by me.
The reading went on for some time as there were many beneficiaries. Flinn began to daydream about what could be left for him. Flinn was not a very sentimental person, so trinkets and heirlooms paid him little interest. Perhaps his car, or maybe money. Something that will be useful to him.
To my dear brother, Terrence, I leave my 1964 Pontiac GTO and all tools and parts associated and necessary with/for the running and upkeep of the vehicle.
The further down the list he went, less was given, but this is to be expected. As the end of the list neared, Flinn began to wonder what would be left for him if anything at all. The will had been in order of age, to this point, so he should be up soon.
To my Granddaughter, Nia,...
Nia? She's younger than me… Flinn thought.
I leave her my grandmother’s locket containing a picture of my Grandfather before he left for the Great War. She looked at it everyday to keep the memory of him alive until he eventually returned to her alive.
How could he skip me? Perhaps I should have called, or never left. Flinn got lost in his own thoughts and barely paid attention to the rest of the will. He and Pops were so close, and he never imagined he would be taken out of the will. But that is my own fault, afterall. I left, and I never even care to call. He died, and I never even said goodbye.
Just as Flinn began to accept the consequences of his actions, they got to the last beneficiary listed in the will:
Finally, to my oldest Grandson, Flinn, who is more and more like me than I ever could have wished to have been, I leave my journal. I hope whenever you need the motivation, you read it to find the meaning you are looking for in life.
Part 4
Flinn sat at his desk unable to focus. It was fairly slow for a Friday, but he still had work to do. After a chaotic weekend back home in Alabama, he was ready to settle back into his monotonous routine. The experience had been healing in some regards, but still left a lot unanswered. What did he mean by finding the meaning in life? Flinn wondered as he flipped through the endless pages of Pops’ journal, all filled with endless recounts, drawings, symbols, and pictures from his travels, just as he had since Monday. The journal consumed his whole attention, and nothing else seemed important enough to focus on. He had even ditched his friends all week which he never does.
He is supposed to meet Raheem for drinks tonight, but now he is wondering if he even wants to go. There is just too much in his head right now. He just wants to be alone. 12:37. The clock is moving too slowly. Flinn clears his calendar for the rest of the day and decides to go home.
At home, he still finds himself flipping through the pages of the journal, not even reading them but just looking at them. Again and again, he flips through until he has enough. He drops the journal on his lap and stares off into the distance at the gorgeous view of Lake Michigan. The endless city and skyline take up most of the horizon until it just stops, cut off by the endless ocean-like lake. He stares at it for quite a while until something catches his eye. He has seen this before. Well, of course he has. He lives here and this is his view everyday. But he knows he has seen it somewhere else.
He picks the journal back up and flips through in a hurry. There it is. He holds the journal up to the window to show a matching two-page drawing of this exact view. Well, not exact. It is a slightly different angle, but it was close enough. Pops was here. He would have loved visiting. I should have invited him. This made Flinn sad, and he threw the journal down on the table in frustration.
Just then, that is when he noticed it. There was a page sticking out from the journal, but it was not like the rest. The page was white and pristine, aside from a few wrinkles, as if it was new, whereas the rest of the journal showed its age. He rushed over to grab it. He opened it to find a letter, addressed to him:
Grandson, When you left, I knew that you would accomplish everything you set out to do. I also knew, however, you would find yourself lost someday, returning home for answers. I was hoping I’d be able to give you those answers myself, but as time goes on that seems less likely. I too found myself lost, and I knew not why. I had gone and seen the world, and it changed me, but I was still not fulfilled. I came home still looking for the answers, and it took a while, but eventually I did find them.
Through this journal, I hope to share my findings so that you too, when you are lost, find the answers you seek. Whenever you are ready, follow my journey and the clues I have left for you. Go out and see the world, just as I did. You will find that what you want from life is less than what you expect.
I hope the experiences you have are less harsh than my own, but still be careful. The world has changed a lot, but still not enough. But don’t skip ahead for the meaning may be lost. Take only one step at a time, and when it comes time to take the next step, it will reveal itself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seven o’clock rolls around and Flinn walks into the bar to meet Raheem. He hasn’t seen Raheem, or anyone else from the group, since last Tuesday when he had his outburst. He begins by telling the story of the events of this last weekend, but leaves out the parts about Pops’ past.
"Pops left me a hidden letter.”
“What do you mean?” asked Raheem.
“Like in his journal, I found a hidden letter. It was addressed to me.”
“What did it say, bro?”
“He says he was a lot like me when he was my age. He wants me to go where he went and learn what he did.”
“In Alabama?”
“No, everywhere but there. He wants me to start in Western Europe and follow his clues around the world.”
“He traveled?”
“A lot, apparently. I never knew. He was in the army, and after he got out, he traveled… everywhere, basically.”
“Why did no one tell you?”
“They wanted to keep me safe, I guess.
"They wanted to keep the whole family safe after what happened to him.”
“What do you mean, bro. What happened?”
“I can’t talk about it, but it doesn’t matter now anyways. I’m living a different life now.” Flinn never shared much about his past or his family with anyone, not even Raheem. It has always been a mystery. This was the most he had ever shared with him.
“Well, are you going to go?”
“No, I can’t. I have work. It took too much to get here. I can’t just give it away.”
“It’ll still be here when you get back, bro.”
“If only it was that simple.”
“It can be. You have money saved up. Chicago isn’t going anywhere. We’re not going anywhere. Plus, you’ve always talked about traveling more. Why don’t you take some time to do it.”
“I suppose, but I like my life here.”
“If you don’t do it now, when will you? You’ve taken a leap before, why not take another one. You’re smart, you’ll land on your feet, bro. Besides, your grandfather thought it was important enough to not only give you his journal, but hide you a letter for you to find when you needed it most. Maybe now is when you needed it most. You’re way too stressed at work anyways, and I can tell you’ve been off for a while now. Perhaps some change could give you what you need.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On Monday morning, when Flinn gets to work, he walked straight to his boss's office. He turned in his letter of resignation.
Two weeks later, he took the red line to the blue line to O’Hare. Journal in hand, he boarded a flight to Dublin.
submitted by Nora_Clybourn to shortstories [link] [comments]
Chicago, 2016. Flinn Gerald is doing his best to make it in the city. Born in Selma, Alabama, he has spent his entire life trying to escape the ever tightening grasp of his small town. But alas, he made it out and is adapting to life in the big city. With a big fancy corporate job, an endless supply of friends, an apartment with a stunning view of the lake, and great distance from his family, what more could he need? Well, there is a lot more (or less) that he needs, but of course that is a story for later.
On a typical Tuesday night at a bar, the regulars crowd in. Flinn is late, as usual, as he stayed late at work (again), but on his arrival, the cheers and hugs from all the friends make everyone forget of the regular inconvenience. Conversation ensued, starting with all the boring finance jargon, but as the drinks flowed, so did the conversation, moving away from work and more into life. This is what everyone preferred.
“Another round, anyone?” asked Raheem, enthusiastically. After a murmur of concurrence, he stood up to make his way up to the bar. “Flinn, care to lend a hand?”
Raheem Bartlett was Flinn’s college roommate and the first person he met outside of his hometown. The pair hit it off instantly despite having wildly different backgrounds. Even in their freshman year, the engineer and the finance major would get into all sorts of trouble together, but eventually they leveled out. Six years later, they still have each other’s backs just like day one.
The pair made their way up to the bar and waited to get the bartender's attention. “What's up with you, bro?” asked Raheem. “You’ve been seeming a bit off.”
“Oh, ya know. Work, life, everything kinda happens so fast. Work has been busy as of late, and the hours long.”
Seeming displeased by this answer, Raheem stared back in concern.
“Really, I’m fine… just long hours.”
“Back in school you’d pull back to back all-nighters and then still make it to a morning class. I find it hard to believe that the mighty Flinn would be so setback by ‘long hours’.”
Flinn took a moment to ponder, staring down at the bar covered in various stamps and postcards beneath the epoxy surface. “I guess, ya know, it's not all it was cracked up to be. I guess I had expected more.” Flinn had mostly dropped his accent, but occasionally it would still slip out.
Despite coming from a long line of mill workers (mostly paper) and farm hands who never ventured further than the Dallas county line, Flinn yearned to leave his small town and conquer the world from a young age. Coming from the poorest county in Alabama, his family always squashed his dreams, labeling them as impossible. But Flinn knew better. Or, at least he knew he could do better. Graduating top of his class a year early and winning a full-ride scholarship to Northwestern University, he had proved everyone wrong and set his own path. The path he was told was impossible became his reality.
“More what?”
“Nothing, really. I mean, what more is there? This is what I always wanted, right? The stable job in the city, never having to worry about money. It’s great, and I couldn’t be more grateful, but… something is missing. Doing the same thing day after day staring at a screen, moving clients money around. I… just hoped it would be more fulfilling, especially after all it took to get here.”
Before he could finish his thought, the bartender came up to take their order: another round for the table, plus a round of shots, plus two more shots.
“What am I saying, really?” added Flinn. “I shouldn’t be complaining. Look at where I am now compared to six years ago. So much has changed. My home, friends, even my diet. I just feel a bit off. Like I need something more to do..
“I get it, bro. Adjusting to your new life can be rough. Enjoy it for a minute or two.” Raheem slides a shot in front of Flinn. “Here, take this.”
Tuesday had become fairly consistent to this point for this group of misfits: Raheem and his girlfriend Amy; Jack; Jasper, from Flinn’s firm, and his wife Max; and of course, Flinn. For nearly two years, these six have been meeting at O’Malley’s every Tuesday night for drinks and trivia. Some nights are more wild than others, but Tuesday has become the staple of the week among them.
Drinks flowed pretty regularly and heavy over the next few hours as the clock approached the end of day. Still going round for round on alternating tabs, the useless debates began to heat up.
“You can’t seriously think Wicker Park is the best neighborhood outside the Loop. Y’all need to get out more,” said Flinn.
“Bro it’s obviously Wicker Park,” argued Raheem.” Right on the blue line, getting to O’Hare is insanely easy, plus you can’t find better music in the city. Besides, Wicker Park has Davenport’s.”
“No one ever says Wicker Park,” adds Jack. “Have you ever heard someone say Wicker Park before?”
“Dude, but you can obviously get to O’Hare from anywhere in the city,” said Flinn
“Sure, but beats walking through that dumb Block 37 Center transfer like you and your red line. No transfer is the way to go, plus the blue line gets you right to the center of the loop.”
“So does every other L line as long as ya don’t mind walking a few blocks!”
“You’re both wrong,” adds Max. “Neither matters because Midway is better anyways.”
“Woah!” the whole table murmurs, sharing shocked looks as if she just confessed to a crime. Flinn rolled his eyes at this notion.
“Who flies out of Midway?” asks Raheem.
“What? Less people, cheaper flights, and more space. Why wouldn’t I fly out of Midway?” said Max.
“Wait, wait, that aside,” interrupts Raheem, “can we go back to the fact that Jasper thinks Sheffield is the best neighborhood? I feel like we moved past that too quickly.”
The debate rages on for many more minutes, until Flinn, seemingly out of nowhere, had enough.
“Can y’all just shut the fuck up! Why does it even matter?” Everyone’s glance quickly shot over to Flinn as a deafening silence overtook the table. Everyone pondered how to respond, and couldn’t seem to find an answer. This behavior from Flinn was unexpected, nay, unheard of. Flinn was the most level headed amongst them by far. Not even Raheem, his best friend of six years, had ever seen him get angry, let alone over an inconsequential friendly argument. “I…” Not even Flinn knew what to say next. “I’m going to go home. Long day tomorrow.” Already on his feet, he quickly walked away from the table and out the door.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The walk home was fairly brisk, but Flinn had grown fond of the cold. He tucked his hands into his coat pocket and hunched his shoulders forward, only looking down at the pavement ignoring the mostly asleep but still wide awake city surrounding him. His thoughts ran wild and near out of control. Of course, his intoxication did not help with clarity, but the inner dialogue was deafening. Not even he knew what was bothering him, but he was obviously bothered, deeply. He made a fool of himself in a way he never had before, and right now he felt he did not recognize himself. Surely some sleep will help, right?
He slowly made his way down the steps to the platform, carefully watching each step as to not fall, to wait for his train. He posted up against a pillar and stared off onto the dark, empty tracks. What has gotten into me? He did his best to calm his racing, wasted mind searching for some legibility amongst his thoughts.
Once he finally got home, he slumped down on the couch and scarfed down some week-old sushi he found in the fridge. He turned on some old documentary and was asleep before he knew it.
Suddenly, he was woken up by his phone ringing. It usually does not ring this time of night and was less than thrilled to be woken, so he let it keep ringing. It stopped after a couple of seconds, and he glanced down at the screen:
Mama
(2) missed calls
Dad
(1) missed call
Now concerned, he calls his mom back in a hurry. “Hello?”
“Flinn? Your grandfather, he’s dead.”
Part 2
The wet air engulfed Flinn’s face as he stepped out the airport doors into a warm February day. Six years had passed since he smelled the Alabama air. Even after all this time, it still smells just as he had remembered as if not even a day had passed. The drive to Selma was another ninety minutes, and despite having five days to mentally prepare himself for his arrival, it was not nearly enough time. He had not seen or spoken to anyone from his town, not even family, since he left early that August morning all those years ago. He left everything behind to start his new life. The life so many told him to not start, that he needed to stay. He left anyway and never looked back.
That was, until now. He had little choice in this regard. He knew he would have to make his return someday, but he knew not when nor for what. But today was that day. Flinn and his grandfather (Pops) had always been close. If anyone had been supportive of him, it’d have been Pops, but he was a man of little words. Even when he could talk, he hardly chose to. He was a great listener, and not just because he could not speak. He showed he was engaged and listening no matter what Flinn had to say. At times, he felt Pops was the only one who understood him as if he had been just like him before, but no one would ever talk about his past. All Flinn knew is Pops lost his tongue after a failed lynching.
The familiarity of the scenery zipping past was bittersweet. He had not realized how much he missed the rolling hills and thick forests beneath the unforgiving southern sky. He kept his head pressed against the cool glass of the car window even through the constant bumps in the road. He couldn’t look away. So many memories happened here, and the closer he got, the more plentiful the memories became, and the more potent they were, and the more painful they’d become.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the dust settled behind him, he stood on the driveway staring at his childhood home still unsure how to process his emotions. It was all so overwhelming. He was thinking everything at once. He took a deep breath, rolled back his shoulders, and swallowed. He reached for the door handle, hesitating slightly, and took a step in. One foot, and then the next.
“Martin!” Flinn smiled as his old friend and childhood dog rushed towards him without hesitation. He knelt down and embraced him as Martin excitedly rustled through his arms seemingly showing more energy than he had in years.
He walked down the hall and around the corner into the living room. There, both drawn to the large television like moths to a flame, he saw his parents sitting beside one another on the couch watching some daytime program with their backs to him. They seemed to pay no notice to the commotion at the front door nor the loud creaking footsteps he took along the old wooden floors. They knew he was there; they just chose to ignore him. He walked into view to greet them. "Mama, dad." His father smiled slightly but caught himself and refrained.
Mama kept a straight face, but seemed to be fighting tears."Howard, help Flinn with his bags, dear."
“No, it's alright, I know where to take them,” said Flinn. “How are y’all?”
“Service is tomorrow at eleven down at the ole First Baptist Church. Make sure to wear something nice.”
“Alright, mama. I’ll... I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Whole family is coming tonight. Dinner is served at...”
“At seven, I got it, just as always.”
“It’s good to see you, kid.” said his dad. “Let me know if you need anything”
He did not expect things to go like that, not that he knew what to expect. He had hoped time would have been more forgiving. Perhaps leaving unannounced in the middle of the night was not the best plan, but at the time he felt as if he had no other choice. Everyone knew he was leaving. That was no secret and had not been for years before any plan had actually been set into motion. No one knew the date or time, except for Pops, of course, but he’d never tell. Of course he wanted everyone to know. He wanted everyone to be proud of him, but it was too big of a risk and commendations were too much to expect. Besides, Mama always had her schemes, and had she known, she would have found a way to stop him.
Not much had changed since he’d been here last. The old wood paneling still lined nearly all the walls, crack in some spots, replaced in others, but all coated by decades of cigarette soot. On the walls were a combination of family portraits from over the years and cheap artwork found at the flea market. Old green furniture, too many house plants to count, and a tacky themed kitchen, it was all still the same.
His childhood bedroom, however, was much different. Hardly even recognizable, what was once his bedroom was now a storage room filled with endless shelves and boxes. He set his things on the lonely cot in the corner, sat down, and took it all in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not realizing he had drifted off, Flinn awoke and looked at the clock. 6:55. Convenient. He sat up and brushed his hair down with his hand as he suspected it was sticking up in the usual way. He rubbed his eyes and made his way to the dining room. The whole family was there, probably about twenty people or so, all scattered about throughout the kitchen, dining room, and living room engaged in various conversations. His nana, aunt, and Mama were cooking away putting the final touches on the large meal.
“Well if it isn’t this fucker…” said a familiar voice to his left, laughing. Flinn looked over to see his cousin who’s just a year younger than him.
“DeAndre, how are you?”
“Never thought I’d see you again, even since you left. Thought maybe you ‘ood be dead.”
“Nah,” Flinn laughed. “Still very much alive.”
“I can see dat. Wearin’ your fancy suit and all.”
“Yeah I’ve been doing pretty well. Work has been… good. I have a great job at a finance firm in Chicago. Everything has been… Good. Yeah, good. How about you?”
“Now you ain’t goin’ city on us, are you?”
Flinn laughed. “I think I might already be.”
Just as dinner was finishing up, a line started to form and people found a seat wherever they could, be it at the table, on the couch, near the counter, or outside.
“Flinn!” his dad called out. “I saved ya a seat here at the table, kid.”
Flinn took his seat right next to his dad which positioned him right across from Mama. The table could sit eight, and the seats filled in pretty quickly so he was lucky to get one. Besides his sister, all of the oldest family members took the other four chairs.
The dinner itself was mostly uneventful, except for the food of course which was extraordinary. Flinn had not eaten Mama’s cooking, or anything like it in six years. The southern food in Chicago was alright, but nothing like what you can get down here, and no restaurant is going to have the same quality and taste as a home-cooked meal. By God, he had not realized how much he needed this. It was almost healing, like a part of his soul had been lost and he found it once again. The last week had been incredibly overwhelming, and last Saturday he never foresaw being here now, but he was glad he was, regardless of the looming tension. All the stress from work and life back home in Chicago was now all gone. All he had to worry about was… oh yeah, the family drama. The dreaded interactions, what he had suppressed for so long, that had kept him up at night for years. All those long nights doing homework or anything else beside sleeping. They had not been by choice but rather necessity. He would have slept more if he could, and some of those nights he really needed to, but instead was kept motivated by the pain. The pain of knowing no matter what he did, no matter how successful in life he became, he would never be good enough for his family, good enough for Mama, because he left them.
If there ever was a time to clear his conscience and get everything out of the way, it would be today, or at least over the next couple of days. When else would he have the chance? Not that any of this had been planned, and his therapist would probably advise against it. She did not even know he was here. What would she have to say? Avoiding conflict has always been his choice. He has always been quiet, never been at the center of drama, but some things need to be said. Just, maybe not by him. If he waited long enough, perhaps they would come up on their own. So he decided to wait, but he knew time was limited and he could not wait forever.
“Mama, could you pass the butter?”
Mama just stared back at him. “Get ya own damn buttah, since ya can do everything else on ya own.”
Flinn stands up and reaches for the butter. “I can do everything myself, and I have. I hope you’re proud, Mama.”
“Proud? What do I have to be proud of?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe my job, my degree, everything I have been able to do to build a good life for myself.”
“I don hear anything worthy of praise.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mama.”
“Oh, so now you’re sorry? You could’ve fooled me. Is that how you felt when you left? Unbelievable.”
“I left because I had no other choice.”
“Oh don go lyin’ to me now. You did have a choice. You had a choice and you chose to leave us. You didn’t say goodbye, and you were just gone in the mornin’.”
“If I had not just left, you would’ve stopped me.”
“Cause you ain’t got no reason to go nowhere.”
“I had plenty of reasons to want to leave, and not because of you. I’ve always had dreams, Mama, ya know that. I’ve always been bigger than just this town.”
“Oh, so now you’re too good for us, city boy? Huh? I don wanna hear no more of it.”
“It wasn’t about that, Mama. Look at all I’ve been able to do.”
“I ain’t see nothin’. You never call and you never visit. How am I supposed to know what you been doin’?”
“I thought you didn’t want me coming around any more?”
“Well, you’ve got that right. Glad to see you still have some brains left.”
“Well excuse me. Maybe it's best if I leave again. Sorry I ain’t make you proud, Mama.” Flinn got up and left the table.
Part 3
Just as the early light began to peak through the blinds, Flinn was woken up by a firm knock at his door. “Flinn, may I come in? It's Uncle Terrence.”
Flinn sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Yep, come in.”
“How are you this morning, kid? Ya know, she’ll never admit it, but ya Mama missed ya.”
“I find it hard to believe.” Deep down Flinn knew it was true, but she was hard as a rock, and arrogant. She would always find a way to be right, even when she knew she was wrong, and she would never let you know she knew she was wrong.
“Well, we’re all proud of you, kid.” Flinn hated when Terrence and everyone called him kid. “Just wish yoo’d come around and see us every once in a while. I know ya busy with all the big city stuff and all.”
“I thought no one wanted anything to do with me any more?”
“At first, maybe, but I miss ya, kid. Ya know who missed ya most of all?”
“Pops?”
“Yes, of course. He always wanted to know about ya, every time I’d come round. He couldn’t call, but always wanted me to.”
“I should have called.”
“I think everyone wanted to call, but as time went on, it became harder and harder to push that button. It was already so hard at first, and only got harder.”
“I thought about everyone a lot, especially at first. Leaving was really hard, and I almost didn’t, but I always wanted more. I didn’t want to spend my whole life in this town, and if I had not left when I did I probably never would have. But it was still hard. I wanted to go home so many times, but I convinced myself no one wanted me here no more or that y’all would’ve said ‘I told ya so’ or sum bullshit. No one wanted me around any more and I had left, so I was stuck on the path I chose. And I’m happy, and I’ve done so much, but it’s never been easy.”
“Pops was a lot like you when he was your age. Set on leaving as quickly as he could. Things were different back then, not that they are any better now, but Hank... my brother… Pops, was just like you.”
“What changed?”
“Well, he never did. Just no one talks about it anymore. After what happened on that day, they blamed his behavior. Said he should’ve played it safe and he’d still have his tongue.”
“No one has ever told me the story.”
“And they won’t. It changed the whole family.”
“But you’ll tell me?”
“Only if you promise not to tell. I don need an earful from ya Mama.”
“I promise.”
“Hank couldn’t be confined to Selma, just like you. He joined the army right out of high school, and after he was done in Lebanon, he didn’t go straight home.”
“Where did he go?”
“Everywhere but here. He used the small amount of money he got from the army and went anywhere that would let him in. Across Europe, parts of Asia, Northern Africa, even parts of South America. Of course, a young black man traveling by himself at the time was challenging, but Hank could hold his own pretty well. He still ran into all sorts of trouble. He spent more nights in jail than he would have liked, but he would have done it all again if he could.”
“What happened when he got back?”
“He was much different, but for the better. He couldn’t wait to get back out there again. He had confidence like I had never seen before. That’s what got him in trouble not too long after.”
“How’d he lose his tongue? I’m guessing that is what changed everything.”
“When he got back, he got involved with a girl, I think her name was Susan. She was the mayor’s daughter. They snuck around for a while. Their relationship was not acceptable, especially to her father. If he found out, Hank would be in a lot of trouble, and of course eventually he did find out. He spent about a month in jail in just awful conditions even for the time. They didn’t have anything to hold him on so eventually they had to let him go. About a week after he got out, he was walking downtown and some guys grabbed him. He took him out to a field and tried to lynch him. Luckily, they failed and he survived, but they took his tongue as a warning. He was never the same after that. All of his confidence was gone, and of course he couldn’t speak no more.”
Flinn did not know how to respond. It all made sense now: why the family so desperately wanted him to stay, why they were so hurt by him leaving, and why they’d feared who he was becoming. They were all traumatized and wanted to protect him. They did not want him to suffer the same fate as Pops.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The funeral itself was fairly uneventful and went nearly as perfectly as expected. The church filled in with hardly any empty seats, tears were shed, and speeches were given. Pops touched the lives of almost everyone he met, and they came to show it. After the service was the reception, and yet again, the food was spectacular. Everyone got along just fine today and there was no more residual drama, at least for now. Today was Pops’ day.
After the reception, the family gathered back at Mama’s house for the reading of the will. Pops did not have many possessions, at least not of monetary value, but what he did have was meaningful in other ways. He was very clear on who he wanted to give off, and handpicked what would be most substantial to each person.
Everyone gathered around much as they did at dinner, and the lawyer began his reading:
I, Hank Gerald, a resident in the City of Selma, County of Dallas, State of Alabama, being of sound mind, not acting under duress or undue influence, and fully understanding the nature and extent of all my property and of this disposition thereof, hereby make, publish, and declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament, and hereby absolutely revoke any and all other wills and amendments previously made by me.
The reading went on for some time as there were many beneficiaries. Flinn began to daydream about what could be left for him. Flinn was not a very sentimental person, so trinkets and heirlooms paid him little interest. Perhaps his car, or maybe money. Something that will be useful to him.
To my dear brother, Terrence, I leave my 1964 Pontiac GTO and all tools and parts associated and necessary with/for the running and upkeep of the vehicle.
The further down the list he went, less was given, but this is to be expected. As the end of the list neared, Flinn began to wonder what would be left for him if anything at all. The will had been in order of age, to this point, so he should be up soon.
To my Granddaughter, Nia,...
Nia? She's younger than me… Flinn thought.
I leave her my grandmother’s locket containing a picture of my Grandfather before he left for the Great War. She looked at it everyday to keep the memory of him alive until he eventually returned to her alive.
How could he skip me? Perhaps I should have called, or never left. Flinn got lost in his own thoughts and barely paid attention to the rest of the will. He and Pops were so close, and he never imagined he would be taken out of the will. But that is my own fault, afterall. I left, and I never even care to call. He died, and I never even said goodbye.
Just as Flinn began to accept the consequences of his actions, they got to the last beneficiary listed in the will:
Finally, to my oldest Grandson, Flinn, who is more and more like me than I ever could have wished to have been, I leave my journal. I hope whenever you need the motivation, you read it to find the meaning you are looking for in life.
Part 4
Flinn sat at his desk unable to focus. It was fairly slow for a Friday, but he still had work to do. After a chaotic weekend back home in Alabama, he was ready to settle back into his monotonous routine. The experience had been healing in some regards, but still left a lot unanswered. What did he mean by finding the meaning in life? Flinn wondered as he flipped through the endless pages of Pops’ journal, all filled with endless recounts, drawings, symbols, and pictures from his travels, just as he had since Monday. The journal consumed his whole attention, and nothing else seemed important enough to focus on. He had even ditched his friends all week which he never does.
He is supposed to meet Raheem for drinks tonight, but now he is wondering if he even wants to go. There is just too much in his head right now. He just wants to be alone. 12:37. The clock is moving too slowly. Flinn clears his calendar for the rest of the day and decides to go home.
At home, he still finds himself flipping through the pages of the journal, not even reading them but just looking at them. Again and again, he flips through until he has enough. He drops the journal on his lap and stares off into the distance at the gorgeous view of Lake Michigan. The endless city and skyline take up most of the horizon until it just stops, cut off by the endless ocean-like lake. He stares at it for quite a while until something catches his eye. He has seen this before. Well, of course he has. He lives here and this is his view everyday. But he knows he has seen it somewhere else.
He picks the journal back up and flips through in a hurry. There it is. He holds the journal up to the window to show a matching two-page drawing of this exact view. Well, not exact. It is a slightly different angle, but it was close enough. Pops was here. He would have loved visiting. I should have invited him. This made Flinn sad, and he threw the journal down on the table in frustration.
Just then, that is when he noticed it. There was a page sticking out from the journal, but it was not like the rest. The page was white and pristine, aside from a few wrinkles, as if it was new, whereas the rest of the journal showed its age. He rushed over to grab it. He opened it to find a letter, addressed to him:
Grandson, When you left, I knew that you would accomplish everything you set out to do. I also knew, however, you would find yourself lost someday, returning home for answers. I was hoping I’d be able to give you those answers myself, but as time goes on that seems less likely. I too found myself lost, and I knew not why. I had gone and seen the world, and it changed me, but I was still not fulfilled. I came home still looking for the answers, and it took a while, but eventually I did find them.
Through this journal, I hope to share my findings so that you too, when you are lost, find the answers you seek. Whenever you are ready, follow my journey and the clues I have left for you. Go out and see the world, just as I did. You will find that what you want from life is less than what you expect.
I hope the experiences you have are less harsh than my own, but still be careful. The world has changed a lot, but still not enough. But don’t skip ahead for the meaning may be lost. Take only one step at a time, and when it comes time to take the next step, it will reveal itself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seven o’clock rolls around and Flinn walks into the bar to meet Raheem. He hasn’t seen Raheem, or anyone else from the group, since last Tuesday when he had his outburst. He begins by telling the story of the events of this last weekend, but leaves out the parts about Pops’ past.
"Pops left me a hidden letter.”
“What do you mean?” asked Raheem.
“Like in his journal, I found a hidden letter. It was addressed to me.”
“What did it say, bro?”
“He says he was a lot like me when he was my age. He wants me to go where he went and learn what he did.”
“In Alabama?”
“No, everywhere but there. He wants me to start in Western Europe and follow his clues around the world.”
“He traveled?”
“A lot, apparently. I never knew. He was in the army, and after he got out, he traveled… everywhere, basically.”
“Why did no one tell you?”
“They wanted to keep me safe, I guess.
"They wanted to keep the whole family safe after what happened to him.”
“What do you mean, bro. What happened?”
“I can’t talk about it, but it doesn’t matter now anyways. I’m living a different life now.” Flinn never shared much about his past or his family with anyone, not even Raheem. It has always been a mystery. This was the most he had ever shared with him.
“Well, are you going to go?”
“No, I can’t. I have work. It took too much to get here. I can’t just give it away.”
“It’ll still be here when you get back, bro.”
“If only it was that simple.”
“It can be. You have money saved up. Chicago isn’t going anywhere. We’re not going anywhere. Plus, you’ve always talked about traveling more. Why don’t you take some time to do it.”
“I suppose, but I like my life here.”
“If you don’t do it now, when will you? You’ve taken a leap before, why not take another one. You’re smart, you’ll land on your feet, bro. Besides, your grandfather thought it was important enough to not only give you his journal, but hide you a letter for you to find when you needed it most. Maybe now is when you needed it most. You’re way too stressed at work anyways, and I can tell you’ve been off for a while now. Perhaps some change could give you what you need.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On Monday morning, when Flinn gets to work, he walked straight to his boss's office. He turned in his letter of resignation.
Two weeks later, he took the red line to the blue line to O’Hare. Journal in hand, he boarded a flight to Dublin.
2024.05.15 21:47 MUI-Tojo Re:Cord of Ragnarok [Chapter 21] Part 2
![Re:Cord of Ragnarok [Chapter 21] Part 2](https://external-preview.redd.it/VzIW2vWT_TPZAPh8xiCg32Jk1eEZ72FI3wu0vYP2FQg.jpg?width=320&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=19a275f8583e87f463aa7b3e7b6bf70e1ff27364 "Re:Cord of Ragnarok [Chapter 21] Part 2") | Chapter 21.2:【Tales of Fire and Ice】 submitted by MUI-Tojo to ShuumatsuNoValkyrie [link] [comments] The Arena Tsukuyomi gripped his sword firmly in hand. He looked forward at his foe, allowing the audience he knew was watching, the words he knew they were saying, the arena itself, to all simply fade away into the darkness. Right now, to him, the only things shining in the night were he and his foe. Nothing else mattered, not even the past and future. He gave himself a quiet, bitter, yet lighthearted laugh, and shook his head with a slight smile. The scabbard had cracked. And yet, once the shock had worn off, it now seemed so incredibly trivial. “...What have I been doing? I can’t believe I paralyzed myself for so long. Even after I met Mother, even after that day, I was just making excuses to be a coward. To never truly fight. But they all…wanted me to just do my best, didn’t they? They wanted me to fight just like that woman does. If so…” He had fallen countless times. Won many victories. But before today, how many of those battles had he really given his everything to? He regretted every single one of them in hindsight. But now, the god of the moon brandished his sword with a determined light in his eyes. “...Then that’s the only expectation I need to fulfill!” He looked Zetian right in the eyes as he replied to her. His voice was as unwavering as his blade. “Indeed. My father taught me so much. So did my mother. They are truly incredible. I’ve been…such a fool for not listening to them until now.” Wu stood before him in silence. A blank look distorted her face for a second, as a sense of regretful jealousy almost took over, before the strength of her glare and stance returned twice as strong. Her presence was now like that of a ferocious dragon. “Hah…how very lucky you are. To have someone at your side to raise you up like that. You’ll never understand what it means to fight truly alone.” “W-W-W-WAIT A SECOND!” The distressed voice of Mammon pierced the ears of the fighters. “You should not be able to return to sanity! It's not possi-” “SHUT UP! No one has the right to decide what I can and can’t do, you hear me!?” The Empress barked out a command for all to hear, a symphony of the rage and frustration she obtained throughout her life. Luoyang, Henan Province It was nothing new, really. Spears and swords surrounded her on all ends. Eyes that threatened to burn right through her soul- hollower than usual, but intending to kill nonetheless. The roaring and desperate sounds of battle raging around her. Once again, a blade was pointed at her rise to the throne, and once again, Zetian would fight with all she had to defend it. Even against her own men. The devilish talismans around the soldiers’ necks glowed with an eerie purple light, illuminating the bloody Luoyang streets below them. Zetian had ordered them locked away upon their discovery, but clearly, at least one of her ministers was less than trustworthy. A shame. Pushing all thoughts of future executions to the side, she looked upon her gathered allies turned foes, already braced for lethal combat. Her eyes narrowed as their leader stepped forward: a nobleman clad not in his usual fine robes, but regal battle armor, clearly prepared for this very day. A more ornate talisman that surged with dark power hung from his neck. Li Zhen, the Prefect of Yu, regarded Zetian with the same sneering smirk he had always worn around her. The brother of the late Gaozong, and a young prodigy of the Li Clan, Zhen had opposed her from the beginning, almost obsessively so. As if being in her presence and seeing her rise was a reality he could simply reject. Even as the other clans and officials of China fell before her, acknowledging what she had become, Zhen and the Li Clan remained stalwart in their defiance. To Zetian, their eyes burned more than anyone else’s- Zhen’s insults, beatings, and even the cold silence he regarded her with were seared into her mind. It was almost preordained in the heavens that he would be her final obstacle. “My greetings, Empress Dowager! I must offer my humblest apologies! After all, it’s a shame you’d be struck down like this, when you’re so close to the finish line.” Zhen laughed coldly. He drew his sword from his waist and stepped forth, before gesturing to the soldiers with pride as they all followed at his command. “You’ve slain so many of us Li without even batting an eye…but can you do the same to your own royal guard? That one’s been with you for thirty years, I believe, and that one twenty-five. Such loyal soldiers they are!” He laughed mockingly and patted the soldier next to him on the shoulder. “...Of course I can.” Zetian’s reply was clear and sharp, lacking the honeyed arrogance she had grown into over the years. Li Zhen raised an eyebrow. The burning in her eyes hadn’t even flickered a bit. He had wanted to snuff it out, but now, even making it waver seemed like a heavenly task. “Then come try it, Wu Zetian! Show me what made a subhuman like you into an empress!” He laughed and stepped away, behind a wall of Zetian’s most loyal and powerful soldiers. Without warning, they all attacked at once. She didn’t even hesitate. In but a single minute, without a hint of mercy or pause, Wu Zetian slaughtered the elite guard she had cultivated with her own two hands. The deaths were swift and brutal. These loyal warriors, perhaps even companions, were now merely the same as the fallen Li soldiers that littered the streets. But perhaps that kind of death was a mercy in itself. The talismans leeched at the very soul to empower their victims, and agonizingly drove both mind and body to death- so Zetian killed them quickly. It was most efficient to end them before they could grow more powerful. Yes, that was why. “...Well done!” Zhen remarked. The blood shed by Zetian had begun to pool at his feet. Awe was visible on his face, a horrified form of delight, as he slowly began to smile. It was an expression fit for the descent of a god. Zetian paused with an almost incredulous expression. “It’s a bit too late for that, isn’t it, Li Zhen?” “On the contrary…this is the moment I’ve been waiting for. Finally, you’ve bloomed into a flower that Gaozong would be proud of!” Zhen’s smile was now jolly, the sneer he had worn for decades all but gone. He spread his arms wide in a grand gesture and laughed. Zetian remained silent, almost daring him to speak further. The Prefect of Yu happily obliged. “I knew from the very beginning that you had the drive to claw your way to the top. Those pitiful princes, ministers, prefects, and dukes…they languish in their role, blinded by the comfort of their titles. They lack the fire that a ruler needs, the cold blood of those born in hell. Only someone like you, who knows what it means to truly rise, could be worthy of the throne!” “...And that’s why the Li Clan never gave me my due respect, eh?” Zetian cocked her head back. The ever-present flame in her eyes was almost cold. Zhen nodded in glee. “But of course! If a woman were to rule at Gaozong’s side, or any of ours, we would accept only the finest. And you, dear Zetian, have become something beyond my wildest dreams.” He approached her as his grin turned manic. “A mind, body, and soul of finest steel…yes! That carnage just now proves it! You are the only one who can be my empress!” “You expect me to join you?” “The Li Clan remains mighty, despite your actions against us. We are your only true opposition. If we join hands, my empress, heaven and earth shall be ours to rule! So thank you, truly…for meeting my expectations.” Li Zhen’s eyes softened further now, his smile almost fatherly. Zetian had almost forgotten what such a smile looked like, even if Zhen’s was one with venom behind it. It was a warm venom. One she was nearly tempted to crave. It was a pity she would have to destroy it too. Zetian clenched her fists, steeling herself. And then she spoke. “My rise, my rule, what I’ve done then and today…not a single moment of it was for you, or anyone else. This power is mine and mine alone. For all your talk about the throne, Li Zhen…you’ve forgotten the most important thing of all.” “Oh?” “That there can only be one ruler.” She lunged directly at Zhen, just as coldly as she had done her own soldiers. As if his words had truly meant nothing to her. Li Zhen had always been a prodigy. A genius of politics and war, of swordplay, and even of martial arts, which he had turned to out of sheer boredom. For his entire life, he had wanted nothing more than an equal. He prayed fervently that some twist of fate would place Zetian by his side. Not Gaozong’s or anyone else’s. A one-on-one fight with her was, truly, the culmination of that dream. But as Zetian parried, dodged, and blocked every single one of his blows, as if he were but a child with a stick, striking back over and over with force that shattered his armor and bones, the prodigy of the Li Clan realized that he had made a fatal mistake. Wu Zetian was not his equal, and hadn’t been for a long time now. Perhaps she never even was. She had not simply met expectations- she had unquestionably surpassed them all. BLACK TORTOISE’S SHELL His strongest all-or-nothing strike didn’t move her an inch. VERMILLION BIRD’S FLIGHT Before he could even begin to follow up with a swing to her throat, she disappeared from sight. He turned around far too late. She was lunging for him. DRAGON’S MIGHT Zhen opened his mouth to choke out what he knew would be his final words. But faced with the wildfire burning in Zetian’s visage, with the bestial, almost hungering way she was now moving, what could he even say? It was only now that Li Zhen began to fathom what he had created. WHITE TIGER’S CLAW “Have we given rise to an empress, or a demon-” Zetian’s whole body moved in a brutal downwards arc. The claw of a monster swept right through Zhen’s body, devastating it, tearing muscle and shattering bone, the armored, empowered prodigy little more than the weakest of peasants before its might. His life ended before he could even process his last, horrified thoughts. Zhen’s corpse dropped to the floor in two. And next to it, with no one to see them in this secluded corner of Luoyang, as the battle began to die down, Wu Zetian simply looked upon her nemesis’ corpse, overcome by a hollow catharsis, the flame in her eyes now burning coldly. That last warm smile was something she had fought for decades to see, even if she herself had forgotten why. Yet it was unable to move her. Could she even move her own heart, at this point? She had now slain Li Zhen with her own two hands. Her armies had already crushed many of the Li, and would end the rest of them soon. Zetian had conquered all possible opposition. But even as she stood atop a mountain of corpses and destroyed expectations, all those scornful eyes now looking towards her with reverence…she still felt that same empty, terrified hunger once the fearless rush of victory had passed. The hunger of a pitiful peasant girl destined for an unnamed and shallow grave. Even the throne wasn’t enough, nowhere near enough. She still wasn’t enough. She still had to prove herself more. Li Zhen and countless more had died, but their ghosts would gaze upon her forever. The peak of the mountain was still a lonely place. But even if it was lonely, it was safe for now. Neither blades or words, pointed towards her at all times, could even begin to reach her from where she stood. That was why Zetian had to keep climbing higher. All doubt and fear had to be banished. If she showed her constant hesitation, if any part of her was weak, then she’d fall in an instant, all the way back to the hell that lay below the earth. Back to the girl she used to be, and refused to admit she still was. To stay on the throne of heaven…Wu Zetian had to live as a devil. Thus, Zetian remained standing. Not a single tear fell, and not a single tremor ran through her body. Whether it led to heaven or hell, she would continue walking the lonely path of an empress, paved with the corpses of friends and foes. She had no choice but to. Without hesitation, she ran to the raging battle ahead, not sparing a single moment of goodbye or prayer for her closest comrades. They had sacrificed themselves for a cold and ruthless empress, a ruler who would make China as strong as herself, and she intended to honor that. Her country, her world, would never even begin to crumble. She would make sure of it. An empress never faltered, and an empress never relied on others. Even if the warmth- no, the absolute power she sought was impossibly distant, and fleeting in her grasp…she would chase it forever. Even if she had to chase it all the way to the heavens. The Arena Zetian glared back at Tsukuyomi, her composure unshaken, but a burning, primal desire to conquer in her eyes. The moon god’s resolve remained unshaken. If anything, his face only softened with pity. But it seemed as if it was a battle to remain resolute, as if Zetian’s eyes were imposing her dominant will on the heavens themselves- it was as if Tsukuyomi was looking towards the peak of some unfathomable, treacherous mountain, and the dragon that reigned there as its ruler. “The desperation of having nothing at all is what breeds the greatest hunger for power.” Solomon mused, a cool smile on his face. “And when one with such a craving actually reaches the heights that they seek, nothing in heaven and earth can stop them.” “Wait, that makes no sense!” Legion interjected. “So she can control Demon Mind because…” “Indeed. Wu Zetian has always been a human with the ‘greed’ of a demon. Perhaps even beyond one. That is her path as an iron empress, unchallenged by any in China. Only someone like her, one with an ‘ego’ that burns like an infernal flame, could ever harness Mammon to this extent…” His confident smile unwavering, Solomon turned his attention back to the arena. “...You must have suffered greatl-” Tsukuyomi began. “You shut up too, you patronizing asshole! As if I would care about the validation of those stuck up bastards, or even oh-so-almighty gods like you.” Tsukuyomi’s attempt at consolation was shut down by the ravings of Wu Zetian. Her words resonated with the moon god, the fiery glare she met him with shaking him to his core. She took a step forward and spread her arms, a grin and snarl simultaneously on her face as she continues. “From the beginning, my throne has been mine and mine alone. I’ve fought, bled, and killed for no one except me, I clawed my way to the peak with my own two hands! And I’ll crush anything that wants to take that from me- I don’t care if it’s the heavens themselves! For I am…the Empress of China!” A familiar figure in the audience smirked gleefully. “Wonderful! Show them the dragon’s fire that consumed all of China! Show them everything you are, my Empress!” Li Zhen roared out pridefully, the rest of the Li Clan with him. Their stands were surrounded by many of Zetian’s other fallen foes, watching intently. Li Jingye, Empress Wang, Sun Wanrong- regardless of their feelings, they all stood firm in their support, placing their faith in the one who had unquestionably crushed them all. It didn’t matter what she had done to them, at least, not here and now. Zetian’s might was the single, immutable truth uniting them, a grand temple that had been built upon all their corpses. And they would uphold that embodiment of their China until the very end. As the Empress returned to her fearsome martial stance, firm as iron yet ready to rage like a flame, Tsukuyomi steeled himself and took a breath. ‘She does not have her demonic form activated…This is my chance! It’s now or never!’ He grasped his damaged haori in his hand and slung it towards Wu. The Empress was surprised with the newfound courage of Tsukuyomi, yet prepared herself all the same. It took only a single swipe of ‘Tiger Claw’ to shred the haori into pieces, but the brief distraction was enough for Tsukuyomi to reach her. His sword flashed through the air towards her leg, forcing the Empress to jump up with a feral glint in her eyes. He looked up, knowing just what to do next- but the brief moment of pause he gave before doing it was more than enough. Zetian lunged forth and swung, landing a palm strike to his ribs, and very nearly taking his head off with a turning kick, still grazing his cheek even as he ducked away. Tsukuyomi stepped back, grimacing but resolute as Zetian rushed at him once more. “Don’t you dare hesitate like that again, boy!~” “...You’re right! No more regrets!” As he swung to intercept her, Zetian batted his blade down to the god’s side and closed in on the opening before Tsukuyomi. However, the young god steeled himself. It was just as he had planned- the creation of a second chance to execute that maneuver. Without hesitation, Tsukuyomi spat the blood pooling in his mouth into the eyes of his monstrous opponent. “I can… NO! I WILL WIN!” He declared to the heavens, to the tune of a demented snigger from his opponent, before bringing the blade to her neck. A beheading fit for royalty. Yet, the Empress’ demonic eyes flashed open through the blood, and his blade was stopped firmly by her palm. Zetian diverted it to the side with a manic expression. “What the..? Wait. Her pupils changed?!” Shock and horror palpated in Tsukuyomi’s brain as he realized that the demon mind had once again brought Zetian into her demonic state. In the stands, Solomon laughed to himself as he observed the battle below. “It would appear that greed is truly the quality of a dragon, and you have achieved the pinnacle of it….well done Wu Zetian~” “Oh my. So this is the ‘hunger’ that made her such a mighty empress…” Amaterasu mused to herself. Izanagi was now sweating slightly, his arm trembling in rage. Mammon, meanwhile, was quivering, too shocked to even speak. Just what kind of relentless beast had Solomon bound him to? The demon, who walked through hell itself without a hint of fear, now felt as if he was in the presence of a monster. Wu positioned herself in the same stance she had performed her White Tiger Assault in, before firing herself precariously towards the panicked God. Tsukuyomi’s eyes widened. He was too slow to dodge. He didn’t have enough momentum to parry. He couldn’t guard, or he’d be crushed under the blow’s pure power. Every option began to fade away in his mind, the Tsukuyomis of every possibility crushed by their foe… Except the one he had finally found confidence in. The only way to advance was to move forward. Even if it was just this once, for a single strike and the rest of the battle afterwards, he was done hesitating. Here and now, he could go all out. He rushed forward, his blade surging with light. This was the final stage of the self-mastery he had cultivated. At the end of the path of moonlight, the thousands of victories and twice as many failures forming it…simply stopped existing. The only truth remaining was this moment. To master one’s self meant to put one’s present self, all that they knew they were, into every single swing. And after so many years, Tsukuyomi’s blade and heart had finally become one shining light. WHITE TIGER’S ASSAULT PERPETUAL MOON CYCLE: HALF MOON https://preview.redd.it/cjl9gbqb8n0d1.png?width=1011&format=png&auto=webp&s=d130842aaee35ab3a46277b2ca1988f56e157ee5 Tsukuyomi raised his blade up high, and sent it cascading down like a waterfall of pure surging moonlight, almost meteoric in its descent as radiant power wildly trailed behind it. At the same time, Zetian’s raging, hungering claw of a hand shot upwards in that same bloodthirsty arc of destruction. “Oh my.” Thoth gasped. “Their power is beginning to approach that of Lucifer himself!” “This is gonna be bloody.” Crowley cackled, gently rubbing his hands together. “Yes! Crush that boy, Empress!” Li Zhen yelled. Both his fists were clenched in anticipation. “...G…GO FOR IT, TSUKUYOMI!” cried out Izanami, raising one fist and nearly standing up from her chair. It was a clash of pure unwavering will. Hell’s raw tenacity and heaven’s steeled resolve met in the form of a fist and blade, the flesh and light that burned in their hearts trying to consume the other entirely, the blast of their collision a passionate roar towards the sky. “I won’t lose!” Tsukuyomi declared, tightening his grip and clenching his teeth. “Eat shit!” Wu snarled, the grin on her face almost hungering. With one last shout from both sides, as they poured all that blazed in their souls into the clash, it ended in a single, explosive instant. Tsukuyomi was blown away along with his sword, and tumbled across the arena floor, as Zetian was forced backwards in a burst of blinding moonlight, hissing in pain and nearly falling over- but standing her ground nonetheless as she dug one foot into the ground behind her. Gaozong breathed a sigh of relief from his seat. Qin and the Li clan nearby, meanwhile, let out an invigorated cheer. “What a clash!” said the First Emperor with a grin. “Just a little more, and victory will be hers to seize!” On the other side of the arena, Izanami yelped a bit, clutching Lucifer’s hand briefly. Tsukuyomi’s siblings looked on with concern, but not fear. Everyone in the room knew Tsukuyomi still wasn’t done. But just how much more did he have left to give? “Tsukuyomi…damnit…” Metatron muttered, adjusting his glasses anxiously. Michael remained watching, his smile unusually firm as he spoke. “Worry not, brother. His soul is still far from exhausted. And as his family, it’s our duty to watch until the very end…and to believe in him more than anyone else can!” “...son of a bitch…” Wu mumbled to herself, observing the deep, frostbitten cut that had torn at her fingers. Small drops of blood seeped down and pooled below her, yet she stood tall and defiant. The blade had shattered upon impact and the claws had crippled Tsukuyomi to his knees… “At least you died like a warrior, I will give you that mu-” “I’m…not...done…yet…” The croaky voice of Tsukuyomi beckoned in her ears. Alarm and confusion arose, as Zetian watched the feeble god lift himself up with an empty, half-dead look on his face, yet determination in his eyes. ‘When did he become so persistent? I have crushed him time and time again, destroyed his blade and stolen his pride…From where does he draw strength?!” https://preview.redd.it/cv35garf8n0d1.png?width=757&format=png&auto=webp&s=2dd9f788709d270b1587802483a30970fadc507e Tsukuyomi looked down and noticed the blood that swam below him. ‘Am I dying? No…I can’t die yet…I don’t want to die…I suppose father, mother, and Michael would want me to live… Right…? I must try that, right father? This forbidden technique…’ The broken blade glowed before him as he exhaled a frigid air. Blood was coughed onto the ground, yet froze upon meeting his mist-like breath. His arm, covered in blood, cracked and began to tremble as it was now coated in shards of ice. Wu looked towards him carefully, “I don’t like this at all.” Her instincts were raging at her. Primal instincts of the first of mankind suffering an age of ice, the opposite to their glorious fire, that killed all indiscriminately. “I am sorry that you must experience this, Lady Zetian…It is a horrid power…Forgive me” As Zeitan assumed a defensive stance, Tsukuyomi brought his blade before him, a fragile look in his posture. “Tsuku…Yomi…!” Lucifer’s eyes widened, in a way they hadn’t since his earlier match. “Son… You truly… Have grown up…” His quiet voice held a mixture of realization, pride…but also a hint of anxiety, one of the emotions he discarded long ago. Metatron remained silent, sweat pouring down his brow, as Hanuel’s eyes widened next to him. “He can’t be…!” Hanuel muttered. “Just what is he doing!?” “Ahhh, Tsu-chan is about to do something splendid~ I wonder~ How will Wu-chan manage?” Dionysus' relaxed voice didn’t exactly match his eyes burning with passion and excitement. “HA! What the fuck is he gonna do now?” Moros chanted, his eyes enchanted with excitement, his fingers burying into his hands as he awaited Tsukuyomi’s move. “Hooh boy. I’m beginning to feel what I felt back in the center of the Hurikan again.” Da Vinci thought to himself in the infirmary, still in too much pain to speak. Izanagi watched with a snarl, taking a deep breath of frustration at what he believed was Tsukuyomi’s incompetence. Amaterasu simply continued to watch unperturbed, an interested twinkle in her eyes. She turned to the sword-wielding god nearby and spoke with her head tilted curiously. “Oh, Mikazuchi. Isn’t he doing the same thing as you? Or is it another one of his father’s techniques…” Amaterasu’s words were light, almost teasing. The masked god shook her head and crossed her arms as she replied with a sigh. “Of course not. Every ‘sword’ in the world is different. Whatever he’s about to do…is something that only he can pull off.” “This is your final test Zetian, will you manage to overcome your final obstacle, prove to everyone who ever doubted you, how wrong they were…Or fall trying” Even the ever-so collected Solomon had his full attention on the fight. “Oh? No matter…whatever that brat god tries, our empress can overcome it! Isn’t that right?!” Li Zhen shouted. A confident smile was on his face as the cheers of his clan erupted around him, Gaozong watching intently nearby. “Well gods, angels and men!” Thoth announced triumphantly. “Prepare yourselves, because the climax of the battle starts here!” “Please, Tsukuyomi…win and come home.” Izanami’s voice was strangely calm, her hands clasped together as if praying. All her anxiety and confidence towards her son seemed to have vanished together, leaving only the nothingness of what was to come. He twisted his grip on the handle, pointing the tip of the glimmering moonlight at himself. He took a deep breath before plunging it deep inside him, twisting the blade in his guts. “The fu-!!!” Wu was startled by his suicidal display, before realising the temperature had dropped far below its former warmth. She looked to the ground and only barely avoided the expanding permafrost that encased the castle. Had she not jumped, she would have surely been trapped. The blood that dropped from his back shot out with the thrust of the sword, yet seemed to freeze instantly. Their chilled form intensified, and became reminiscent of the wings of an angel. The frozen wings of glimmering ice, the coming of Fimbulvetr… |
2024.05.15 08:41 WoldonFoot Certain Things Were Said: A TWBTW Campaign (Parts I-IV) (In Verse!)
After sixty-seven sessions of Curse of Strahd (read all about it here), it was time for a change. So into the wild we went...
My group is nearing the end of Hither, and along the way I've written summaries of each session ("What Just Happened?"), along with interesting/funny quotes from PCs/NPCs ("Certain Things Were Said"), and a list of new characters introduced that session ("Dramatis Personae").
My intention is to write the summaries for each of the five parts of the campaign in a different format. For the Witchlight Carnival, each summary was presented in verse (my own, no machine learning shortcuts!), using the metre and rhyming structure of various Lewis Carrol poems.
I'd like to share my summaries/poems with you all here, for posterity, and in the hope you'll find them entertaining.
For reference, the players are:
’Twas twilight when the carnival Did open wide two golden gates, And those with tickets did arrive, Seeking things they had misplaced.
One harengon of curious size, A kobold with a slithy gait, An owlet who possessed two eyes As wide as Annam’s dinner plates.
Yet are we three or are we four? Let’s add vibrations rarefied: A Witchlight hand here to ensure That every guest is Satyrs-fied!
Enter now and taste the sounds, Feel these colours, smell those sights! Kaleidoscopic fun abounds This synaesthesiac’s delight!
Yet where’s the drama? Where’s the tension? Certainly we’ve had a switch (At least in here there is no mention Of that cad von Zarovich).
Instead let’s race a giant snail, Eat candied mushrooms by the pound, Or listen to a gnome assail The tightness of your mother’s gown.
Yet hark! A misadventure glum! Those not heroes please give berth! The best laid plans of love undone By Tasha’s wild unruly mirth
These mirrored halls! This desperate task, To find a luckless paramour A sweet-toothed lass with porcine mask That you could swear you’ve seen before…
’Twas twilight when the carnival Did open wide two golden gates And those with tickets did arrive, Now guided by the wiles of fate.
Dramatis Personae
Arix Specklefoot, a sweet-toothed owlin Holafina, a curiously short harengon Skerrek Tirael, a slithy kobold Sylenos, a cosmic satyr Nicholas Midnight, elderly goblin ticketmaster at the Witchlight Carnival Candlefoot, a mime and not by choice Rubin Sugarwood, a lovesick halfling Ween Sundapple, his laugh-sick paramour Glorange Turple, a poetry gnome
Certain Things Were Said
“I am worried about your ability to sense vibrations that I cannot.” - Skerrek Tirael
“Tymore, goddess of good fortune! Look well upon Shellymoo this day!” - Holafina
“Hate to say it, man, but that gnome really insulted your mother.” - Sylenos
“Snacks?” - Arix Specklefoot
"The time has come," the Satyr said, "To talk of many things: Of poems—and props—and Jeremy Plum— Of crowns and pixie kings— And why things here keep getting lost— And what this pig-girl means."
"But wait a bit," the Owlin cried, "Before our minds do meet, For some of us are pretty spooked, And I would like a treat!" "No hurry!" said the Satyr, And kicked up cloven feet.
The Owlin and the Kobold Were walking close at hand, They smiled like anything to see The gates of Pixie Land. "If we could only stay a while,” They said, "it would be grand!"
The Satyr sighed so sulkily, Because he thought that Plum Had got no business to be there When all was said and done. (“It's rude of him," the Kobold said, "To try and spoil our fun!")
"Oi, Satyr," said the pixie king, "You've had a pleasant run! Should you be getting back to work?” But answer came there none And this was scarcely odd, because He had real beef with Plum.
Now Arix made a hamster friend Who offered up some clues. The others tried the riding-pug: A pleasant thing to do! (“The pug is fine," the Rabbit said, "But he’s no Shellymoo.”)
"How nice of you to come!” said Plum, "You all are oh-so kind!" Puddlemud said nothing as His teeth began to grind. The Owlin and the Kobold cheered: “That was our FAVORITE ride!”
“A wooden crown," fair Jexim said, Is what we need to come Our way along with golden paint For some un-princely sum.” The others stared, confused, and said: “Now where did YOU come from?”
‘Twas then the party dared approach The famous Mystery Mine Where psychedelic spectacles Broke the Satyr’s mind. (“I really wish,” Zephixo sighed, “You wouldn’t ride while high”).
Next Dirla pulled all kind of things Out of his wagon/portal: Bottles, bunnies, candlesticks, A shining blade of vorpal (Incidentally, there’s a word That kind of rhymes with purple).
“If you put your mind to it And searched for long enough, Do you suppose," the party said, "That you could find our stuff?" "I doubt it," said dear Dirlagraun, And gave a bitter huff.
Then he gave the Harengon The greatest gift by far: A copy of “Gnome On The Run” And bid them au revoir (Morgie would have laughed at that While trying to type slash “R”).
“I do believe,” the Satyr said, “That something is not right, And think we ought to pay a call To Messers Witch and Light.” “I think we ought,” the Owlin said “To first stop for a bite.”
But in their way old Thaco stood, A clown grown grim and surly: “Rabbit! Owlin! Pixie! Skink! You aren’t allowed to be-“ The Fairy interrupted him: “Wait, WHAT did you call me?”
Poor Thaco cried: “Things move too fast! And have since my debut In R-1: To the Aid of Falx From Nineteen Eighty Two! And if you’d seen what I have seen Then you’d smoke bubbles, too!”
Finally he stepped aside, At last the way was clear. The Satyr ambled stealthily With open eyes and ears And pressed them to a wagon large To see what he could hear.
"The time has come," Witch and Light said, "To talk of things galore Of prizes—plans—and kenku pests— and ever so much more— But first we’d better ask inside Those spying at our door!”
Dramatis Personae
Jexim, a puzzled, puzzling fairy Jeremy Plum, operator of the Pixie Kingdom and bestower of silly names Biscuit, a talkative hamster Pinecone, a riding-pug Zephixo, dwarven inventor and mastermind behind the Mystery Mine Ernest Wilde, middle-aged calliope master currently inhabiting the body of his pet monkey Marigold, his button-collecting goblin assistant Dirlagraun, a kindly but inefficient displacer beast, minder of lost children and property Thaco, a bubble-smoking clown who is long past his prime
Certain Things Were Said
"Worried I was, with talk of missing supper." - Arix Specklefoot
"Could you not just purchase a new pair?" - Skerrek Tirael "Not like this, man." - Sylenos
"If you'd see the things I've seen, you'd smoke a bubble pipe, too." - Thaco
"Is this it?" - Dirlagraun "NO." - Everyone
"Where the heck is our stuff? We just want to know This Harengon ain't getting bigger, Arix has no idea of where to go And lies send poor Skerrek a-quiver!"
"Would you get back to work?" Mister Light cried, Twirling his cane with a smile, "Otherwise find where this kenku pest hides; She's cramping this carnival's style!"
"Well, that was a bust," said our heroes, conferring, "Anyone got a suggestion? If we need to pull strings to get back our things Then there are some folk we should question."
"Time's an illusion, free will a delusion!" Sylenos' mentor decreed, "Get a contusion battling occlusions, Or relax and have some of this…wait, what was I saying?"
Sylenos proclaimed: "A genius flawed!" "A man/dragon ahead of his time." Skerrek looked at his claws; Holafina at paws, And the other two just rolled their eyes
"A centuar I'm not! I just made a bad trade The "Cloppinton's" just serendipitous, Now lend me your aid and you'll maybe persuade These horsies to drop some significance."
Then they took to the skies on a dragonfly ride (Holafina and Skerrek abreast), When you're this high there's just nowhere to hide (And to which Sylenos attests)
Now Skerrek honed on a runaway gnome Who was fleeing the carnage with glee, Holafina struck home and that's it for this poem For the gnome was the kenku, you see.
Dramatis Personae
Mister Witch, a matter-of-fact elf, devoid of pretense Mister Light, a flamboyant elf, luminous and coy Burly, a philosophical, pumpkin-helmeted bugbear Mandragon, a seeker of truth (and not much else) Diana Cloppington, a centaur who is apparently not, operator of the Carousel Northwind, a very forthcoming treant, operator of the Dragonfly Rides
Certain Things Were Said
"There’s something weird going on. For some reason everyone thinks I don’t do anything around the carnival." - Sylenos
"It's true, Miss Cloppinton! We've ALL lost things." - Arix Specklefoot
"Wait, when did we have biscuits?" - Jexim
Now hear the Kenku’s strange reply (As Arix struggles to apply Triage to these pixie guys)
Asking questions, getting nought Set her on a different course: High sabotage without remorse!
And what has got her so irate Is what’s she trying to intimate: Zybilna has been quiet of late!
Ignore the rest, and let’s take flight To confront dear Witch and Light (Surprisingly, they’re quite contrite)
To keep the carnival in motion A tapestry of lies was woven: A deal with the Hourglass Coven!
Who take from those who can’t afford Entrance through the Witchlight’s doors Miscellanea adored
So THAT’s who taken all your junk! Time to find these Hourglass punks! Which way to this Feywild dump?
But first we’ll make a brief aside So Candlefoot can vocalise His mermaid love (now legalised)
Now the pair can tie the knot And while we’re passing time why not Ride the fabled Bubble Pot?
Yet ere you all are translocated (Everybody’s breath now bated) Arix must be coronated!
The time of truth has come at last Hesitation as you pass Though the hallowed looking glass
Are you afraid to lose your minds? What lies ahead? What lies behind? What do you expect to find?
Will Skerrek ever fabricate? Or Holafina emulate A bunny’s median height and weight?
Shall Jexim’s memoirs find acclaim? Can Monty locate Bobbitt Fane? (…hang on, that’s a different game)
Does Arix ever find the door? And will Sylenos flee the cause To study unemployment law?
Dramatis Personae
Kettlesteam, a mischievous patron of Zybilna Paleesha, a mellifluous mermaid, now reunited with Candlefoot
Certain Things Were Said
“Sylenos, perhaps in eight years you can come back and find your lost employment.” - Skerrek
“Ask me where the exit is.” - Arix Specklefoot “Where is the exit?” - Mister Light “I don’t know.” - Arix
submitted by WoldonFoot to wildbeyondwitchlight [link] [comments]
My group is nearing the end of Hither, and along the way I've written summaries of each session ("What Just Happened?"), along with interesting/funny quotes from PCs/NPCs ("Certain Things Were Said"), and a list of new characters introduced that session ("Dramatis Personae").
My intention is to write the summaries for each of the five parts of the campaign in a different format. For the Witchlight Carnival, each summary was presented in verse (my own, no machine learning shortcuts!), using the metre and rhyming structure of various Lewis Carrol poems.
I'd like to share my summaries/poems with you all here, for posterity, and in the hope you'll find them entertaining.
For reference, the players are:
- Holafina (a harengon paladin who has lost three inches of height)
- Skerrek (a kobold druid who has lost the ability to lie)
- Arix (an owlin monk who has lost all sense of direction and is always hungry)
- Jexim (a brash fairy warlock who has lost his diary)
- Sylenos (a beatnik/slacker satyr rogue employed by the Carnival)
Part I: Welcome to the Witchlight
What Just Happened? (in the style of Jabberwocky)’Twas twilight when the carnival Did open wide two golden gates, And those with tickets did arrive, Seeking things they had misplaced.
One harengon of curious size, A kobold with a slithy gait, An owlet who possessed two eyes As wide as Annam’s dinner plates.
Yet are we three or are we four? Let’s add vibrations rarefied: A Witchlight hand here to ensure That every guest is Satyrs-fied!
Enter now and taste the sounds, Feel these colours, smell those sights! Kaleidoscopic fun abounds This synaesthesiac’s delight!
Yet where’s the drama? Where’s the tension? Certainly we’ve had a switch (At least in here there is no mention Of that cad von Zarovich).
Instead let’s race a giant snail, Eat candied mushrooms by the pound, Or listen to a gnome assail The tightness of your mother’s gown.
Yet hark! A misadventure glum! Those not heroes please give berth! The best laid plans of love undone By Tasha’s wild unruly mirth
These mirrored halls! This desperate task, To find a luckless paramour A sweet-toothed lass with porcine mask That you could swear you’ve seen before…
’Twas twilight when the carnival Did open wide two golden gates And those with tickets did arrive, Now guided by the wiles of fate.
Dramatis Personae
Arix Specklefoot, a sweet-toothed owlin Holafina, a curiously short harengon Skerrek Tirael, a slithy kobold Sylenos, a cosmic satyr Nicholas Midnight, elderly goblin ticketmaster at the Witchlight Carnival Candlefoot, a mime and not by choice Rubin Sugarwood, a lovesick halfling Ween Sundapple, his laugh-sick paramour Glorange Turple, a poetry gnome
Certain Things Were Said
“I am worried about your ability to sense vibrations that I cannot.” - Skerrek Tirael
“Tymore, goddess of good fortune! Look well upon Shellymoo this day!” - Holafina
“Hate to say it, man, but that gnome really insulted your mother.” - Sylenos
“Snacks?” - Arix Specklefoot
Part II: Lost and Found
What Just Happened? (In the style of The Walrus and the Carpenter )"The time has come," the Satyr said, "To talk of many things: Of poems—and props—and Jeremy Plum— Of crowns and pixie kings— And why things here keep getting lost— And what this pig-girl means."
"But wait a bit," the Owlin cried, "Before our minds do meet, For some of us are pretty spooked, And I would like a treat!" "No hurry!" said the Satyr, And kicked up cloven feet.
The Owlin and the Kobold Were walking close at hand, They smiled like anything to see The gates of Pixie Land. "If we could only stay a while,” They said, "it would be grand!"
The Satyr sighed so sulkily, Because he thought that Plum Had got no business to be there When all was said and done. (“It's rude of him," the Kobold said, "To try and spoil our fun!")
"Oi, Satyr," said the pixie king, "You've had a pleasant run! Should you be getting back to work?” But answer came there none And this was scarcely odd, because He had real beef with Plum.
Now Arix made a hamster friend Who offered up some clues. The others tried the riding-pug: A pleasant thing to do! (“The pug is fine," the Rabbit said, "But he’s no Shellymoo.”)
"How nice of you to come!” said Plum, "You all are oh-so kind!" Puddlemud said nothing as His teeth began to grind. The Owlin and the Kobold cheered: “That was our FAVORITE ride!”
“A wooden crown," fair Jexim said, Is what we need to come Our way along with golden paint For some un-princely sum.” The others stared, confused, and said: “Now where did YOU come from?”
‘Twas then the party dared approach The famous Mystery Mine Where psychedelic spectacles Broke the Satyr’s mind. (“I really wish,” Zephixo sighed, “You wouldn’t ride while high”).
Next Dirla pulled all kind of things Out of his wagon/portal: Bottles, bunnies, candlesticks, A shining blade of vorpal (Incidentally, there’s a word That kind of rhymes with purple).
“If you put your mind to it And searched for long enough, Do you suppose," the party said, "That you could find our stuff?" "I doubt it," said dear Dirlagraun, And gave a bitter huff.
Then he gave the Harengon The greatest gift by far: A copy of “Gnome On The Run” And bid them au revoir (Morgie would have laughed at that While trying to type slash “R”).
“I do believe,” the Satyr said, “That something is not right, And think we ought to pay a call To Messers Witch and Light.” “I think we ought,” the Owlin said “To first stop for a bite.”
But in their way old Thaco stood, A clown grown grim and surly: “Rabbit! Owlin! Pixie! Skink! You aren’t allowed to be-“ The Fairy interrupted him: “Wait, WHAT did you call me?”
Poor Thaco cried: “Things move too fast! And have since my debut In R-1: To the Aid of Falx From Nineteen Eighty Two! And if you’d seen what I have seen Then you’d smoke bubbles, too!”
Finally he stepped aside, At last the way was clear. The Satyr ambled stealthily With open eyes and ears And pressed them to a wagon large To see what he could hear.
"The time has come," Witch and Light said, "To talk of things galore Of prizes—plans—and kenku pests— and ever so much more— But first we’d better ask inside Those spying at our door!”
Dramatis Personae
Jexim, a puzzled, puzzling fairy Jeremy Plum, operator of the Pixie Kingdom and bestower of silly names Biscuit, a talkative hamster Pinecone, a riding-pug Zephixo, dwarven inventor and mastermind behind the Mystery Mine Ernest Wilde, middle-aged calliope master currently inhabiting the body of his pet monkey Marigold, his button-collecting goblin assistant Dirlagraun, a kindly but inefficient displacer beast, minder of lost children and property Thaco, a bubble-smoking clown who is long past his prime
Certain Things Were Said
"Worried I was, with talk of missing supper." - Arix Specklefoot
"Could you not just purchase a new pair?" - Skerrek Tirael "Not like this, man." - Sylenos
"If you'd see the things I've seen, you'd smoke a bubble pipe, too." - Thaco
"Is this it?" - Dirlagraun "NO." - Everyone
Part III: On the Trail of the Kenku
What Just Happened? (In the style of The Hunting of the Snark)"Where the heck is our stuff? We just want to know This Harengon ain't getting bigger, Arix has no idea of where to go And lies send poor Skerrek a-quiver!"
"Would you get back to work?" Mister Light cried, Twirling his cane with a smile, "Otherwise find where this kenku pest hides; She's cramping this carnival's style!"
"Well, that was a bust," said our heroes, conferring, "Anyone got a suggestion? If we need to pull strings to get back our things Then there are some folk we should question."
"Time's an illusion, free will a delusion!" Sylenos' mentor decreed, "Get a contusion battling occlusions, Or relax and have some of this…wait, what was I saying?"
Sylenos proclaimed: "A genius flawed!" "A man/dragon ahead of his time." Skerrek looked at his claws; Holafina at paws, And the other two just rolled their eyes
"A centuar I'm not! I just made a bad trade The "Cloppinton's" just serendipitous, Now lend me your aid and you'll maybe persuade These horsies to drop some significance."
Then they took to the skies on a dragonfly ride (Holafina and Skerrek abreast), When you're this high there's just nowhere to hide (And to which Sylenos attests)
Now Skerrek honed on a runaway gnome Who was fleeing the carnage with glee, Holafina struck home and that's it for this poem For the gnome was the kenku, you see.
Dramatis Personae
Mister Witch, a matter-of-fact elf, devoid of pretense Mister Light, a flamboyant elf, luminous and coy Burly, a philosophical, pumpkin-helmeted bugbear Mandragon, a seeker of truth (and not much else) Diana Cloppington, a centaur who is apparently not, operator of the Carousel Northwind, a very forthcoming treant, operator of the Dragonfly Rides
Certain Things Were Said
"There’s something weird going on. For some reason everyone thinks I don’t do anything around the carnival." - Sylenos
"It's true, Miss Cloppinton! We've ALL lost things." - Arix Specklefoot
"Wait, when did we have biscuits?" - Jexim
Part IV: Through the Looking Glass
What Just Happened? (In the style of A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky)Now hear the Kenku’s strange reply (As Arix struggles to apply Triage to these pixie guys)
Asking questions, getting nought Set her on a different course: High sabotage without remorse!
And what has got her so irate Is what’s she trying to intimate: Zybilna has been quiet of late!
Ignore the rest, and let’s take flight To confront dear Witch and Light (Surprisingly, they’re quite contrite)
To keep the carnival in motion A tapestry of lies was woven: A deal with the Hourglass Coven!
Who take from those who can’t afford Entrance through the Witchlight’s doors Miscellanea adored
So THAT’s who taken all your junk! Time to find these Hourglass punks! Which way to this Feywild dump?
But first we’ll make a brief aside So Candlefoot can vocalise His mermaid love (now legalised)
Now the pair can tie the knot And while we’re passing time why not Ride the fabled Bubble Pot?
Yet ere you all are translocated (Everybody’s breath now bated) Arix must be coronated!
The time of truth has come at last Hesitation as you pass Though the hallowed looking glass
Are you afraid to lose your minds? What lies ahead? What lies behind? What do you expect to find?
Will Skerrek ever fabricate? Or Holafina emulate A bunny’s median height and weight?
Shall Jexim’s memoirs find acclaim? Can Monty locate Bobbitt Fane? (…hang on, that’s a different game)
Does Arix ever find the door? And will Sylenos flee the cause To study unemployment law?
Dramatis Personae
Kettlesteam, a mischievous patron of Zybilna Paleesha, a mellifluous mermaid, now reunited with Candlefoot
Certain Things Were Said
“Sylenos, perhaps in eight years you can come back and find your lost employment.” - Skerrek
“Ask me where the exit is.” - Arix Specklefoot “Where is the exit?” - Mister Light “I don’t know.” - Arix
2024.05.15 06:18 S-CSleepwalker Please, don’t play this game
I’m not too sure if this is the right place to post this. Hell, I don’t know if anyone’s even gonna see it. I want to start this off by saying that this story isn’t to be taken lightly. I don’t want you to read this and try to copy what is done, instead take it as a warning. A warning to never play this game, a warning I wish I had gotten before I made that mistake.
I lived almost my entire life in the middle of Delaware, if you forgot that was a state I wouldn’t blame you. In my neighborhood there were 3 kids I always played with everyday. Kyle, Jimmy, and Seth. Our houses were close enough to each other that we played together whenever we had the chance.
We did all the typical things a couple 13 year old boys would do. Swimming in the local pool, going to the Walmart and buying nothing, or just hang in one of our basements and being jack-asses. It was almost a Disney-like childhood. Sleepovers were nothing new for us, I think we had one almost every weekend. What was new was not having any parents there to watch us.
Seth offered to host the next one and included that his parents were gonna be gone for the night. They were staying down at the beach and told Seth it would be fine for him to invite us over. Fine for him, not so much for the rest of us. I think me and the other guys pleaded and begged our parent’s multiple times to let us go.
Our parents knew each other and trusted us but the idea of 4 pre-pubescent boys being alone in a house was any parents worse nightmare. Somehow, by the grace of god, they agreed the night before. After all this time, I still wish they had denied us. Maybe things would have ended differently.
I wanna tell you about the events that happened that night that changed me into who I am. It changed my life and every families that was involved in it. This is the night I played Hide and Seek with my friends.
“Hide and Seek? Won’t that get boring with just 4 of us?” I asked suspiciously as I took a handful of Doritos from the bowl on the table. It was about 10:30pm when Kyle suggested we play a game so we could try and stay up later.
“Yeah man and besides, we have an Xbox.” Jimmy pointed out. Seth came walking down the basement with some sodas in hand, almost dropping the cans
“What are you guys talking about? You better not be thinking of touching my controller with your greasy hands Jimmy, not after last time.”
“It was an accident! I got you a new one.” Jimmy responded before chuckling a bit.
“No guys, I saw this on the internet a few nights ago. We have to try it.” Kyle said. He almost sounded like he was pleading with us.
Kyle was always the kind of kid to believe in spooky things. Ghost, werewolves, demons. You name it, Kyle probably believed it. I remember one time he somehow got us all to go in the woods with him during the winter to look for dog people that a YouTuber said was out near us. We all got the flu after that.
“Oh god, another one of these? Is it gonna be like that dog thing again?” Seth chimed in.
“It’s not like that, this one is real. I promise dude.” Kyle seemed genuine about it. I almost felt bad as the other guys called him stupid for it.
“Alright man, we try your game for a bit. Then if it’s a bust, we play Xbox.” I suggested. Kyles face lite up as he got some paper out of his bag.
“Who said you were in charge of deciding when to play my Xbox?” Seth questioned. I just shushed him as Kyle got some more stuff out of his bag. Candles, lighters, a knife. I would have hated to see what would happen if we said no to his idea.
“Alright, first. We gotta turn all the lights off. Not a single one can be on during the game.” We looked at each other before we went off to get the house started. I had been in Seth’s house almost as much as mine but there’s strangeness to it when the lights were all off. We got back to the basement where we found Kyle lighting the candles and placing them on the ground around the paper. As we sat around him I could see some words on the paper. “Ready or Not, here it comes”
“What’s that for?” I pointed as Kyle placed the last candle down.
“That’s to start the game. I saw these Indian guys play it and they said you have to start the game just like this or it doesn’t work.” Kyle answered as he slowly pulled the knife up and turned to face us.
“Now, we have to cut ourselves.”
“Like Sarah from home room?” Jimmy chuckled
“I thought that was a rumor?” Seth remarked as he leaned towards Jimmy
“Guys! Focus! Just a small prick on your finger. Then you put it on the paper.” Kyle demanded as he slowly pressed the knife tip into his finger
“This feels very, extreme. Is this safe to play?” I asked, seeing Kyle whence as blood slowly pooled on the top of his finger
“I think so, the guys seemed like they were having fun when they did it.” He held the knife towards me next, the guys watched as I reluctantly took the knife and plucked my finger. I did encourage us to play this for Kyle sake, I couldn’t chicken out now. The other two did the same, Jimmy had more tears then the rest of us but when he finished he handed the knife back to Kyle.
“Now?” Seth asked, rubbing his finger on his Pokémon pajama bottoms.
“Now, repeat after me.” We all listened to Kyle and repeated
“ 1, 2, 3. Ready or not, come find me.” We stared at each other. Silence filled the basement as our eyes kept darting to see if anything happened.
“Do you hear that?” Seth whispered We listened as the most quiet fart escaped him. He fell on his back and laughed. Jimmy joined him and so did I. We laughed and laughed, I looked to see if Kyle found it as amusing but was met with sadness. He looked almost heart broken, I knew he lived for these kinda things and for it to not work most have broken him. I moved to him and smiled
“Hey, at least we didn’t have to sit out in negative degrees to get results this time huh?” He smiled slight back
“Yeah I guess you’re right. I don’t know how those guys made it look so convincing.”
“CGI probably, my dad says that’s how most things are done like that.” Seth said as he got up to go turn the light back on. Before he hit the switch, a loud thud filled the room. I’ll never forget the look on his face as he rushed back to the floor where we were all sitting.
“W-what was that?” Jimmy whispered to me. I didn’t know what to say until Kyle reluctantly chimed in.
“It’s him, the seeker.” We sat still as another thud could be heard. Like it was right above us.
“What the fuck dude? S-Seth? Did you invite someone else over? Duncan or Josh maybe?” Jimmy was frantic with his questions as his eyes filled with tears.
“No, it’s him.” Kyle answered before Seth could respond.
“Who?” I asked
“The seeker. The person who plays the game with us.”
“Well tell him we don’t wanna play anymore.” Seth demanded, making sure to keep his voice down.
“We can’t, they said he plays until everyone is found.”
“What do you mean until we’re found?” I asked, I kept looking at the stairs. My brain was trying to wrap around what was happening while also trying to keep reason in it.
“It’s like hide and seek. We play until we’re all found or he can’t find us.” Kyle answered
“Ok, let’s go get found so the game can be over.” Seth tried to stand before Kyle pulled him down.
“No, we don’t wanna be found. Bad things happen if we’re found.” Kyle looked at the carpet as he said it. The thud got louder, almost like it was searching the house.
“Ok, ok. Then we should just stay down here right? If we hide down here it won’t find us….h-how long do we have to hide man?” I stuttered as I waited for Kyle to answer.
“I…I don’t know.”
We sat there in silence, thuds and crashes from upstairs made the silence somehow louder. I had wished it was all a prank. Seth and Jimmy loved pulling those and Kyle was usually the target for them. But I knew it wasn’t that, I knew this was real. I don’t know how it was but at that moment there was something upstairs, tearing the house apart trying to find us.
We stayed like that until Seth finally spoke “Let’s run.”
“What?” Kyle mumbled out, his face covered by his hands. Tears were rolling down his cheeks.
“Let’s run, the doors not to far from the basement entrance. We unlock it and run to a neighbors.” Seth looked for nods or any sign of agreement. Jimmy nodded and I slowly shook yes. I looked at Kyle, grabbing his leg and squeezing it.
“Come on man, we’re definitely faster than it. We’ll be out before it even sees us.” I smiled at him.
He looked up and slowly smiled, nodding. We all slowly moved to the base of the basement stairs. Looking down into a dark basement is scary, but looking up into a dark house is another whole kind of fear. I don’t know how long we took going up those steps but it felt like ages, we were slowly ascending into what could be our end. Seth held the doorknob and just stared at it. I knew he didn’t wanna be the one to open it, to potentially be the one to see what ever it was that was on the other side. I scooted around Jimmy and slowly turned to knob.
The door silently opened, the house was almost pitch dark. The only light we had was from the moon herself, shining into the windows and illuminating the destroyed house. He quietly but quickly moved towards the front door. I peered into the living room to see the chairs and couches turned upside down, some side table doors ripped off they hinges.
“Hurry up man.” Jimmy urged Seth on as he fumbled slightly with the deadbolt. I looked to see Kyle slight behind, close to the basement door. I moved over to get him ready to run
“Let’s go Kyle, we gotta get-“ I almost finished my words as I watched his face turn from scared to horrified. I turned slightly to see Jimmy on the floor crawling away from the door.
I’m not sure even after all this time how to describe what we saw that night. I had wished it was just a man. Some man that was in the house with us but it sadly wasn’t. The best I can try and give a description is to think of a Picasso painting. It had a crookedness to it. Its arm jagged and legs crumbled as it towered over Seth. Seth didn’t move, he didn’t try and fight. All he could do was stand there and look up to see its eyes peering down at him. It picked Seth up and like a rag doll threw him into the living room. A mean and disgusting noise came from his body as he hit the wall of the fireplace. I quickly got Jimmy to his feet and Kyle to snap out of his gaze. Me and Kyle ran to the bathroom as Jimmy made his to the kitchen. I locked the door as I tried to catch my own heart from jumping out my chest. “J-Jimmy? Where-“
My question was shortly answered as I heard Jimmy whimpering and crying outside the room. I unlocked the door and peaked out the crack. I watched “it” linger its way towards him and all I could hear was wet sounds. I quickly shut the door and relocked it. My mind didn’t really process what had just happened in what couldn’t have been more than 3 minutes. My two friends I had been with almost my entire life were gone, just like that. I sat on the cold tile floor as I listened to the thudding from outside. My breathing was dull as I looked to see Kyle shaking by the toilet. I slowly moved my self over and gave him a hug. I knew what he was thinking, I knew the horrible things he was saying to himself in his mind. I didn’t know how to tell him that what was happening wasn’t his fault. I’m not sure that even now I could find the words to tell him that.
“We’ll be fine, we just gotta stay here. It won’t find us.” I tried to reassure him.
“No, it will find us. We can’t stay here.”
“Kyle, Seth and Jimmy are dead. We can’t go back out there and run. I don’t know why we thought it would work.”
“No we…we…I need to get to the basement.” Kyle said, he looked up at me.
“Why? It’s a dead end there. It will-“
“Maybe, I can try and end the game. Rip the paper up…something, I don’t know.” I didn’t know what to say.
On one hand it was the only idea we had besides hiding and waiting to be found. On the other, I couldn’t bring myself to put that hope in his mind. To encourage him just to watch as it fails, He knew this as he came to his own conclusion.
“I’ll go down there, and you head for the coat closet. If it doesn’t work I’ll run back up and I’ll head there to hide with you. Ok?” He nodded to himself. I just stared at him as I nodded back slight. We stood up and slowly unlocked the door. It wasn’t anywhere we could see, which made it all more frightening. We slowly made our way to the basement door
“Good Luck” I whispered to him. He smiled and went our separate ways in the house. I quickly got in the coat closet that was almost directly in front of the basement door, and Kyle made his way down stairs.
That was the last I saw of Kyle, it wasn’t long after I heard loud thudding outside the closet door that quickly went down the stairs. All I could do was sit there, and listen as I heard the silent screams and the pounding of flesh over and over and over again. Soon the hits became more wet, and the screams became more silent.
I sat in the closet and accepted my fate. I slight covered myself with a fallen coat as I heard the thudding move around the house. It was only a matter of time before it got me, before it ripped the door open and I would be met with its horrifying figure. I looked out the slits of the closet door and saw the moon light shining through the windows.
I’m not sure when I fell asleep or even how I did. My body must have been so exhausted that it decided sleep was more important than survival. My eyes slowly opened to see daylight peering though the house. The night was gone and the day had come to save me. Although I was relieved I still forced my eyes shut. The small amount of what I saw was enough to make me do it. I saw the closet door was open, I didn’t wanna have them open as it might slowly peer from the corner and look at me. I didn’t want my last image to be that. I just kept them closed and covered my ears. And then I felt it. Thuds.
I could feel the thudding get closer, closer, closer. Two hands grabbed me, this was it. My flight or fight kicked in and I started to fight. Kicking, hitting, screaming. Anything I could think of I was doing.
“Calm down son, calm down. You’re safe.” Those words hit me like a wall, a calmness I hadn’t felt since the day before came over me. My eyes slowly opened to see the face of a young man kneeling in front of me, his hands holding my arms. He was a police officer.
“It’s gonna be alright.” He reassured me again as he slowly brought me to my feet. He walked me out of the closet and faintly said “Keep your eyes down kid, I’ll lead you out.” I think he said it more for himself, cause I knew what he didn’t want me to see.
Seth was laying in the living room, he’s body bruised from the impact with the wall and his bones broken.Jimmy was on the kitchen counter, multiple wounds and slashes were found on him. Kyle…I’m not sure what really happened to him. The reports on his body never came out. I just know I’ll never forget those sounds from when I hid in the closet.
Seth’s parents moved away almost immediately after the incident. Just left, didn’t take a single thing from that house. It was later taken down, I guess no one wanted to live in a house where something like that could happen.
I saw Jimmy and Kyles parents every once and awhile when I walked around the neighborhood. They would give me small smiles and waves and I would return them back. No more, no less. After high school I moved away for college, my parents knew why and never argued that I should stay closer.
That was a little more than 15 years ago. Few weeks back my dad called to tell me mom had passed away. He offered if I wanted to stay at home for the funeral, stay in my old room. I hesitated. I thought of that night every day for the past 15 years, never really bringing myself to wanna be back in that neighborhood. I refused and opted for a hotel a few miles away in town.
And that’s where I am now, in my bed writing my tale. I want you to take it as a warning, cause as I write this I know I’m not alone. It’s here, it’s in the closet of the hotel room. I can just make out its outline. It’s crooked legs crouching to fit inside, its arms slight poking out from some clothes, and its eyes staring at me. It knows I see it, and it knows I’m writing about that night. I’m not sure why now it decided to finish the game from all those years ago but here we are. Once I finish and close my laptop, it will kill me. My father will have to bury his son just moments after burying my mother.
I say this again, this tale is a warning. If I could I would go back and tell myself to never play that game. I would tell my parents to never let us have that sleep over. I would do everything in my power to stop that night from happening, to be able to save my friends. So please, I beg and plead to you, don’t play this game. Cause if you do, whether your ready or not…
He’s coming to find you
submitted by S-CSleepwalker to nosleep [link] [comments]
I lived almost my entire life in the middle of Delaware, if you forgot that was a state I wouldn’t blame you. In my neighborhood there were 3 kids I always played with everyday. Kyle, Jimmy, and Seth. Our houses were close enough to each other that we played together whenever we had the chance.
We did all the typical things a couple 13 year old boys would do. Swimming in the local pool, going to the Walmart and buying nothing, or just hang in one of our basements and being jack-asses. It was almost a Disney-like childhood. Sleepovers were nothing new for us, I think we had one almost every weekend. What was new was not having any parents there to watch us.
Seth offered to host the next one and included that his parents were gonna be gone for the night. They were staying down at the beach and told Seth it would be fine for him to invite us over. Fine for him, not so much for the rest of us. I think me and the other guys pleaded and begged our parent’s multiple times to let us go.
Our parents knew each other and trusted us but the idea of 4 pre-pubescent boys being alone in a house was any parents worse nightmare. Somehow, by the grace of god, they agreed the night before. After all this time, I still wish they had denied us. Maybe things would have ended differently.
I wanna tell you about the events that happened that night that changed me into who I am. It changed my life and every families that was involved in it. This is the night I played Hide and Seek with my friends.
“Hide and Seek? Won’t that get boring with just 4 of us?” I asked suspiciously as I took a handful of Doritos from the bowl on the table. It was about 10:30pm when Kyle suggested we play a game so we could try and stay up later.
“Yeah man and besides, we have an Xbox.” Jimmy pointed out. Seth came walking down the basement with some sodas in hand, almost dropping the cans
“What are you guys talking about? You better not be thinking of touching my controller with your greasy hands Jimmy, not after last time.”
“It was an accident! I got you a new one.” Jimmy responded before chuckling a bit.
“No guys, I saw this on the internet a few nights ago. We have to try it.” Kyle said. He almost sounded like he was pleading with us.
Kyle was always the kind of kid to believe in spooky things. Ghost, werewolves, demons. You name it, Kyle probably believed it. I remember one time he somehow got us all to go in the woods with him during the winter to look for dog people that a YouTuber said was out near us. We all got the flu after that.
“Oh god, another one of these? Is it gonna be like that dog thing again?” Seth chimed in.
“It’s not like that, this one is real. I promise dude.” Kyle seemed genuine about it. I almost felt bad as the other guys called him stupid for it.
“Alright man, we try your game for a bit. Then if it’s a bust, we play Xbox.” I suggested. Kyles face lite up as he got some paper out of his bag.
“Who said you were in charge of deciding when to play my Xbox?” Seth questioned. I just shushed him as Kyle got some more stuff out of his bag. Candles, lighters, a knife. I would have hated to see what would happen if we said no to his idea.
“Alright, first. We gotta turn all the lights off. Not a single one can be on during the game.” We looked at each other before we went off to get the house started. I had been in Seth’s house almost as much as mine but there’s strangeness to it when the lights were all off. We got back to the basement where we found Kyle lighting the candles and placing them on the ground around the paper. As we sat around him I could see some words on the paper. “Ready or Not, here it comes”
“What’s that for?” I pointed as Kyle placed the last candle down.
“That’s to start the game. I saw these Indian guys play it and they said you have to start the game just like this or it doesn’t work.” Kyle answered as he slowly pulled the knife up and turned to face us.
“Now, we have to cut ourselves.”
“Like Sarah from home room?” Jimmy chuckled
“I thought that was a rumor?” Seth remarked as he leaned towards Jimmy
“Guys! Focus! Just a small prick on your finger. Then you put it on the paper.” Kyle demanded as he slowly pressed the knife tip into his finger
“This feels very, extreme. Is this safe to play?” I asked, seeing Kyle whence as blood slowly pooled on the top of his finger
“I think so, the guys seemed like they were having fun when they did it.” He held the knife towards me next, the guys watched as I reluctantly took the knife and plucked my finger. I did encourage us to play this for Kyle sake, I couldn’t chicken out now. The other two did the same, Jimmy had more tears then the rest of us but when he finished he handed the knife back to Kyle.
“Now?” Seth asked, rubbing his finger on his Pokémon pajama bottoms.
“Now, repeat after me.” We all listened to Kyle and repeated
“ 1, 2, 3. Ready or not, come find me.” We stared at each other. Silence filled the basement as our eyes kept darting to see if anything happened.
“Do you hear that?” Seth whispered We listened as the most quiet fart escaped him. He fell on his back and laughed. Jimmy joined him and so did I. We laughed and laughed, I looked to see if Kyle found it as amusing but was met with sadness. He looked almost heart broken, I knew he lived for these kinda things and for it to not work most have broken him. I moved to him and smiled
“Hey, at least we didn’t have to sit out in negative degrees to get results this time huh?” He smiled slight back
“Yeah I guess you’re right. I don’t know how those guys made it look so convincing.”
“CGI probably, my dad says that’s how most things are done like that.” Seth said as he got up to go turn the light back on. Before he hit the switch, a loud thud filled the room. I’ll never forget the look on his face as he rushed back to the floor where we were all sitting.
“W-what was that?” Jimmy whispered to me. I didn’t know what to say until Kyle reluctantly chimed in.
“It’s him, the seeker.” We sat still as another thud could be heard. Like it was right above us.
“What the fuck dude? S-Seth? Did you invite someone else over? Duncan or Josh maybe?” Jimmy was frantic with his questions as his eyes filled with tears.
“No, it’s him.” Kyle answered before Seth could respond.
“Who?” I asked
“The seeker. The person who plays the game with us.”
“Well tell him we don’t wanna play anymore.” Seth demanded, making sure to keep his voice down.
“We can’t, they said he plays until everyone is found.”
“What do you mean until we’re found?” I asked, I kept looking at the stairs. My brain was trying to wrap around what was happening while also trying to keep reason in it.
“It’s like hide and seek. We play until we’re all found or he can’t find us.” Kyle answered
“Ok, let’s go get found so the game can be over.” Seth tried to stand before Kyle pulled him down.
“No, we don’t wanna be found. Bad things happen if we’re found.” Kyle looked at the carpet as he said it. The thud got louder, almost like it was searching the house.
“Ok, ok. Then we should just stay down here right? If we hide down here it won’t find us….h-how long do we have to hide man?” I stuttered as I waited for Kyle to answer.
“I…I don’t know.”
We sat there in silence, thuds and crashes from upstairs made the silence somehow louder. I had wished it was all a prank. Seth and Jimmy loved pulling those and Kyle was usually the target for them. But I knew it wasn’t that, I knew this was real. I don’t know how it was but at that moment there was something upstairs, tearing the house apart trying to find us.
We stayed like that until Seth finally spoke “Let’s run.”
“What?” Kyle mumbled out, his face covered by his hands. Tears were rolling down his cheeks.
“Let’s run, the doors not to far from the basement entrance. We unlock it and run to a neighbors.” Seth looked for nods or any sign of agreement. Jimmy nodded and I slowly shook yes. I looked at Kyle, grabbing his leg and squeezing it.
“Come on man, we’re definitely faster than it. We’ll be out before it even sees us.” I smiled at him.
He looked up and slowly smiled, nodding. We all slowly moved to the base of the basement stairs. Looking down into a dark basement is scary, but looking up into a dark house is another whole kind of fear. I don’t know how long we took going up those steps but it felt like ages, we were slowly ascending into what could be our end. Seth held the doorknob and just stared at it. I knew he didn’t wanna be the one to open it, to potentially be the one to see what ever it was that was on the other side. I scooted around Jimmy and slowly turned to knob.
The door silently opened, the house was almost pitch dark. The only light we had was from the moon herself, shining into the windows and illuminating the destroyed house. He quietly but quickly moved towards the front door. I peered into the living room to see the chairs and couches turned upside down, some side table doors ripped off they hinges.
“Hurry up man.” Jimmy urged Seth on as he fumbled slightly with the deadbolt. I looked to see Kyle slight behind, close to the basement door. I moved over to get him ready to run
“Let’s go Kyle, we gotta get-“ I almost finished my words as I watched his face turn from scared to horrified. I turned slightly to see Jimmy on the floor crawling away from the door.
I’m not sure even after all this time how to describe what we saw that night. I had wished it was just a man. Some man that was in the house with us but it sadly wasn’t. The best I can try and give a description is to think of a Picasso painting. It had a crookedness to it. Its arm jagged and legs crumbled as it towered over Seth. Seth didn’t move, he didn’t try and fight. All he could do was stand there and look up to see its eyes peering down at him. It picked Seth up and like a rag doll threw him into the living room. A mean and disgusting noise came from his body as he hit the wall of the fireplace. I quickly got Jimmy to his feet and Kyle to snap out of his gaze. Me and Kyle ran to the bathroom as Jimmy made his to the kitchen. I locked the door as I tried to catch my own heart from jumping out my chest. “J-Jimmy? Where-“
My question was shortly answered as I heard Jimmy whimpering and crying outside the room. I unlocked the door and peaked out the crack. I watched “it” linger its way towards him and all I could hear was wet sounds. I quickly shut the door and relocked it. My mind didn’t really process what had just happened in what couldn’t have been more than 3 minutes. My two friends I had been with almost my entire life were gone, just like that. I sat on the cold tile floor as I listened to the thudding from outside. My breathing was dull as I looked to see Kyle shaking by the toilet. I slowly moved my self over and gave him a hug. I knew what he was thinking, I knew the horrible things he was saying to himself in his mind. I didn’t know how to tell him that what was happening wasn’t his fault. I’m not sure that even now I could find the words to tell him that.
“We’ll be fine, we just gotta stay here. It won’t find us.” I tried to reassure him.
“No, it will find us. We can’t stay here.”
“Kyle, Seth and Jimmy are dead. We can’t go back out there and run. I don’t know why we thought it would work.”
“No we…we…I need to get to the basement.” Kyle said, he looked up at me.
“Why? It’s a dead end there. It will-“
“Maybe, I can try and end the game. Rip the paper up…something, I don’t know.” I didn’t know what to say.
On one hand it was the only idea we had besides hiding and waiting to be found. On the other, I couldn’t bring myself to put that hope in his mind. To encourage him just to watch as it fails, He knew this as he came to his own conclusion.
“I’ll go down there, and you head for the coat closet. If it doesn’t work I’ll run back up and I’ll head there to hide with you. Ok?” He nodded to himself. I just stared at him as I nodded back slight. We stood up and slowly unlocked the door. It wasn’t anywhere we could see, which made it all more frightening. We slowly made our way to the basement door
“Good Luck” I whispered to him. He smiled and went our separate ways in the house. I quickly got in the coat closet that was almost directly in front of the basement door, and Kyle made his way down stairs.
That was the last I saw of Kyle, it wasn’t long after I heard loud thudding outside the closet door that quickly went down the stairs. All I could do was sit there, and listen as I heard the silent screams and the pounding of flesh over and over and over again. Soon the hits became more wet, and the screams became more silent.
I sat in the closet and accepted my fate. I slight covered myself with a fallen coat as I heard the thudding move around the house. It was only a matter of time before it got me, before it ripped the door open and I would be met with its horrifying figure. I looked out the slits of the closet door and saw the moon light shining through the windows.
I’m not sure when I fell asleep or even how I did. My body must have been so exhausted that it decided sleep was more important than survival. My eyes slowly opened to see daylight peering though the house. The night was gone and the day had come to save me. Although I was relieved I still forced my eyes shut. The small amount of what I saw was enough to make me do it. I saw the closet door was open, I didn’t wanna have them open as it might slowly peer from the corner and look at me. I didn’t want my last image to be that. I just kept them closed and covered my ears. And then I felt it. Thuds.
I could feel the thudding get closer, closer, closer. Two hands grabbed me, this was it. My flight or fight kicked in and I started to fight. Kicking, hitting, screaming. Anything I could think of I was doing.
“Calm down son, calm down. You’re safe.” Those words hit me like a wall, a calmness I hadn’t felt since the day before came over me. My eyes slowly opened to see the face of a young man kneeling in front of me, his hands holding my arms. He was a police officer.
“It’s gonna be alright.” He reassured me again as he slowly brought me to my feet. He walked me out of the closet and faintly said “Keep your eyes down kid, I’ll lead you out.” I think he said it more for himself, cause I knew what he didn’t want me to see.
Seth was laying in the living room, he’s body bruised from the impact with the wall and his bones broken.Jimmy was on the kitchen counter, multiple wounds and slashes were found on him. Kyle…I’m not sure what really happened to him. The reports on his body never came out. I just know I’ll never forget those sounds from when I hid in the closet.
Seth’s parents moved away almost immediately after the incident. Just left, didn’t take a single thing from that house. It was later taken down, I guess no one wanted to live in a house where something like that could happen.
I saw Jimmy and Kyles parents every once and awhile when I walked around the neighborhood. They would give me small smiles and waves and I would return them back. No more, no less. After high school I moved away for college, my parents knew why and never argued that I should stay closer.
That was a little more than 15 years ago. Few weeks back my dad called to tell me mom had passed away. He offered if I wanted to stay at home for the funeral, stay in my old room. I hesitated. I thought of that night every day for the past 15 years, never really bringing myself to wanna be back in that neighborhood. I refused and opted for a hotel a few miles away in town.
And that’s where I am now, in my bed writing my tale. I want you to take it as a warning, cause as I write this I know I’m not alone. It’s here, it’s in the closet of the hotel room. I can just make out its outline. It’s crooked legs crouching to fit inside, its arms slight poking out from some clothes, and its eyes staring at me. It knows I see it, and it knows I’m writing about that night. I’m not sure why now it decided to finish the game from all those years ago but here we are. Once I finish and close my laptop, it will kill me. My father will have to bury his son just moments after burying my mother.
I say this again, this tale is a warning. If I could I would go back and tell myself to never play that game. I would tell my parents to never let us have that sleep over. I would do everything in my power to stop that night from happening, to be able to save my friends. So please, I beg and plead to you, don’t play this game. Cause if you do, whether your ready or not…
He’s coming to find you
2024.05.15 01:23 DeatonationgGrenade Side/main character additions for my book Anastasius!
Side/main character additions for my book Anastasius!
Hello everyone! I’m running something for my book that I’m sure you’ll enjoy! I’m writing a book titled Anastasius which is Greek for Renewal. But I was thinking of a fun way to raise money for the book and a fun way to interact with potential readers! So I was thinking, if I give the characters who will be in my book, perhaps there could be a fundraiser for this! It will be $10 USD per character and there is no limit to how many characters you’d like! I’ll post the sheet for each character and you can pick and choose which tribe you’d like create your own character! If you have anymore questions I’ll be happy to answer! I take payments through PayPal as it’s the only thing I understand how to use!
Creatures of Renewal:
As written by Wyvern Scholars
Amphiptere:
Amphipteres generally were said to have light-colored feathers like a sunrise, a serpentine body, bat-like wings with feathers covering most of the forearm and often greenish in coloration, and a long tail much like a wyvern's tail. Others are described as covered in feathers with a spiked tail, bird-like wings, and a beak-like snout.
These small dragons are known to go after smaller prey like rodents and birds, as their habitatsavanna's heat, leavingrests. However, large colonies have been known to live in constructed settlements. Still, any knowledge of a leader has yet to be discovered. It has been rumored that the Amphiptere changes leaders when either the current one dies or willingly gives up the position of tribal leader.
Habitat: Forests, Jungles, or the forested remnants of human cities.
Arctic Dragon:
These giant, wooly dragons stand five feet taller than the most significant polar bears; their powerful muscles and jet-black skin under their blueish-white fur dominate most northern regions. Human settlements are where they prowl, waiting for humans hidden in these desolate territories for the perfect time to strike. These areas are far too cold for most dragons. Still, the Arctic dragon has adapted to survive in these brutal conditions. However, females only move southwards when their young are ready to be born. Once the younglings are old enough to walk short distances independently, the mother and cub begin trekking back toward the tundra.
Diet: These dragons hunt down various arctic prey, ranging from the smallest Arctic hares to the giant whales. Anything these dragons can get their talons on is food to them. Although young Arctic dragons do not have the speed or endurance their parents have, they rely on their parents to bring them back something they can eat.
Coatyl: The most noticeable feature of Coatyls is the feathered wings. These wings comprise a humerus connected to a radius and an ulna connected to metacarpals. The wings of a Coatyl allow it to fly, which is the primary method of locomotion. In unbonded Coatyls, the scapulars and front feathers are dark green, the covert feathers are light yellow or tan, and the primary and secondary flight feathers are red. Coatyls have pressurized sacs in the back of the mouth of a highly volatile and slightly acidic chemical known as coatalic acid. When threatened, muscles surrounding these sacs contract, pushing the coatalic acid out of small holes in the mouth and spraying it. When it comes into contact with air, coatalic acid undergoes a chemical reaction that causes it to ignite and become highly adhesive, sticking to whatever it lands on.
Diet: Coatyls primarily prey on small rodents like mice or rats. Coatyls cannot bite or tear their food to pieces, so they instead swallow their prey whole. They can do this as the upper and lower jaws of a Coatyl are not rigidly attached and have multiple joints, allowing them to open their mouths wide enough to swallow prey whole. While digesting food, Coatyls will typically avoid trying to fly and will instead travel along the ground.
Habitat: These dragons are usually found in the same territories as the Amphiptere. However, these Coatyls have been seen further south in the rainforests due to being more of a tropical species. Their size makes them easy prey for larger animals if they are not careful.
Dragon:
The Western European kind, with four legs, two wings, and (usually) fiery breath. Depending on how the work classifies things, these may be the only ones called "dragons." Otherwise, they're typically called authentic, Western, or European dragons. The Western dragon tends to be massive and heavy, with sharp claws and bat-like wings. They are usually with reptile features but may also have fur or feathers. Sometimes dark colored but always shiny. Some have forked tongues, others crests, fringes, or some other adornment. It always has the ability to spew forth blazing fire and fumes. In the West, dragons live in caves or mountain dwellers and predators. Cave dweller dragons stay in the coldness of the dark most of the time. The caves, filled with fire and water, are easily guarded and located close to towns, where food is convenient. Mountain predators live in cave-riddled mountains that provide an invincible tower and protection.
Diet: Western dragons tend to be considered carnivores. They like meat, flesh, and blood as their primary food source and are too fussy about the source. Sheep, cows, oxen, lions, elephants, or even humans, anything of a reasonable size and with warm blood and flesh to feast on, are their primary food sources. However, dragons haven’t shown a preference for the age or gender of humans. One interesting thing to note is that although they eat the flesh, they have a particular taste for blood. Sometimes, when in need of a quick burst of energy, they will only drink the blood of their prey and leave the flesh. This is seen as barbaric by most other species of dragons. Still, with western dragons being the second largest species, we tend not to mess with them and their dietary habits.
Drake: The drake is a dragon with four limbs, much like a lizard, although usually far more significant in size than the average lizard. A potent example of a drake in the natural world is the Komodo Dragon, a large species of minotaur lizard in Indonesia. These creatures have low-slung bodies, like crocodiles and alligators, with bellies across the ground. However, due to their natural habitat and human greed, wild drakes have been increasingly difficult to get notes from and other scholars to talk with. Drakes who are found are highly hostile and not open much to talking, but with enough food and gold, these dragons could easily talk your ear off.
Diet: These family-oriented dragons hunt together in packs; their size and numbers are easily strong enough to take down small herds of water buffalo, wildebeests, elk, and moose.
Feydragons: These dragons are about the size of a cat, each having an iridescent coat of scales that reflected all colors of the rainbow, predominantly reflecting one particular color, which changed with age. They had a long, prehensile tail and platinum-colored, butterfly-like wings. Like true dragons, faerie dragons grew stronger with age but matured much more quickly and lived shorter lives. Because their predominant scale hue ran the colors of the rainbow over their lifetime, their color directly indicated their age and power. The scales of a young hatchling were almost always red, and those of a fully mature dragon (over 50 years old) were violet. Most dragons leave these small ones alone because it is not worth expending calories to catch these little critters. But these small dragons are known across the globe for their beautiful woven tapestries and the symphonies they create with their wings.
Diet: Their diet mainly consists of small bugs caught in the air, from trees and bushes, and off the ground. They also fed on fruits, berries, nectar, and butterflies, which they ate to get the color and look of their wings.
Sea Orc: A Sea Orc has no arms or legs. It sports fins on the top portion and every few meters across its body, including one long fin that runs from the bottom of its head to its tail. A Sea Orc has little in the way of bones; it slithers through the waters like a snake. This assists the Sea Orc in attacking its prey. Sea Orc eggs cannot be fertilized in deep water, and smaller Sea Orcs cannot survive the pressure. Adult Sea Orcs have to head to shallower waters to mate. It is believed that the Sea Orc typically goes to warmer climates for mating.
Female Sea Orcs lay their eggs at the shoreline, close enough to the surface to be safe from the environmental killers but far enough from the water line that the parents can still protect their offspring. The eggs will grow for several months and will be born after size months.
Diet: These massive beasts eat mostly fish and aquatic life, anything they can catch; on rare occasions, they will eat a dragon, but that only happens when a rowdy juvenile dragon decides to go after a Sea Orcs calf.
Wyvern: The Wyvern is about the same size as the Arctic dragon, though in weight, they are closer to their brother, the Drake. The Wyvern is a two-legged dragon with two wings. They are believed to be faster than the more enormous Dragon. Their head is large and round, and they have a more petite mouth than most dragons. The body is thick but with a soft underbelly. The tail of the Wyvern is the most deadly. It is long serpentlike with a large mass at the end. They can also have a load of spikes within the ball or a significant spike at the top. The Wyvern uses this ball as its primary weapon, capable of smashing through most creatures, including other dragon's scales.
For its size, the Wyvern holds a large amount of weight. Most of this weight is within its thick scales. Anyone who has fought a Wyvern will inform you that getting through their body is next to impossible. The scales overlap several times, and underneath them is a thin net of tissue that absorbs impact and is resistant to being cut.
Diet: Moose, Elk, and Caribou are everyday staples of a wyvern diet, although anything that moves fits the wyvern needs as they have to eat at least 400 pounds of food every three days.
Humans: Not much is left from humans after they destroyed themselves; greed took out most of them, and the explosions hurt the rest. Humans have flocked to their caves deep in the ground. Most dragons leave humans alone, but humans have tried to take back their world a few times, but us dragons have quickly stamped out those little uprisings. Although some dragons keep humans as pets, their crafty little grabbers are relatively good at crafting the little things they need. Some dragons keep them for wealth status, and others just eat them for a rare treat.
Prey animals: Not much needs to be said here; anything a dragon can catch and eat is a prey animal.
submitted by DeatonationgGrenade to writers [link] [comments]
Hello everyone! I’m running something for my book that I’m sure you’ll enjoy! I’m writing a book titled Anastasius which is Greek for Renewal. But I was thinking of a fun way to raise money for the book and a fun way to interact with potential readers! So I was thinking, if I give the characters who will be in my book, perhaps there could be a fundraiser for this! It will be $10 USD per character and there is no limit to how many characters you’d like! I’ll post the sheet for each character and you can pick and choose which tribe you’d like create your own character! If you have anymore questions I’ll be happy to answer! I take payments through PayPal as it’s the only thing I understand how to use!
Creatures of Renewal:
As written by Wyvern Scholars
Amphiptere:
Amphipteres generally were said to have light-colored feathers like a sunrise, a serpentine body, bat-like wings with feathers covering most of the forearm and often greenish in coloration, and a long tail much like a wyvern's tail. Others are described as covered in feathers with a spiked tail, bird-like wings, and a beak-like snout.
These small dragons are known to go after smaller prey like rodents and birds, as their habitatsavanna's heat, leavingrests. However, large colonies have been known to live in constructed settlements. Still, any knowledge of a leader has yet to be discovered. It has been rumored that the Amphiptere changes leaders when either the current one dies or willingly gives up the position of tribal leader.
Habitat: Forests, Jungles, or the forested remnants of human cities.
Arctic Dragon:
These giant, wooly dragons stand five feet taller than the most significant polar bears; their powerful muscles and jet-black skin under their blueish-white fur dominate most northern regions. Human settlements are where they prowl, waiting for humans hidden in these desolate territories for the perfect time to strike. These areas are far too cold for most dragons. Still, the Arctic dragon has adapted to survive in these brutal conditions. However, females only move southwards when their young are ready to be born. Once the younglings are old enough to walk short distances independently, the mother and cub begin trekking back toward the tundra.
Diet: These dragons hunt down various arctic prey, ranging from the smallest Arctic hares to the giant whales. Anything these dragons can get their talons on is food to them. Although young Arctic dragons do not have the speed or endurance their parents have, they rely on their parents to bring them back something they can eat.
Coatyl: The most noticeable feature of Coatyls is the feathered wings. These wings comprise a humerus connected to a radius and an ulna connected to metacarpals. The wings of a Coatyl allow it to fly, which is the primary method of locomotion. In unbonded Coatyls, the scapulars and front feathers are dark green, the covert feathers are light yellow or tan, and the primary and secondary flight feathers are red. Coatyls have pressurized sacs in the back of the mouth of a highly volatile and slightly acidic chemical known as coatalic acid. When threatened, muscles surrounding these sacs contract, pushing the coatalic acid out of small holes in the mouth and spraying it. When it comes into contact with air, coatalic acid undergoes a chemical reaction that causes it to ignite and become highly adhesive, sticking to whatever it lands on.
Diet: Coatyls primarily prey on small rodents like mice or rats. Coatyls cannot bite or tear their food to pieces, so they instead swallow their prey whole. They can do this as the upper and lower jaws of a Coatyl are not rigidly attached and have multiple joints, allowing them to open their mouths wide enough to swallow prey whole. While digesting food, Coatyls will typically avoid trying to fly and will instead travel along the ground.
Habitat: These dragons are usually found in the same territories as the Amphiptere. However, these Coatyls have been seen further south in the rainforests due to being more of a tropical species. Their size makes them easy prey for larger animals if they are not careful.
Dragon:
The Western European kind, with four legs, two wings, and (usually) fiery breath. Depending on how the work classifies things, these may be the only ones called "dragons." Otherwise, they're typically called authentic, Western, or European dragons. The Western dragon tends to be massive and heavy, with sharp claws and bat-like wings. They are usually with reptile features but may also have fur or feathers. Sometimes dark colored but always shiny. Some have forked tongues, others crests, fringes, or some other adornment. It always has the ability to spew forth blazing fire and fumes. In the West, dragons live in caves or mountain dwellers and predators. Cave dweller dragons stay in the coldness of the dark most of the time. The caves, filled with fire and water, are easily guarded and located close to towns, where food is convenient. Mountain predators live in cave-riddled mountains that provide an invincible tower and protection.
Diet: Western dragons tend to be considered carnivores. They like meat, flesh, and blood as their primary food source and are too fussy about the source. Sheep, cows, oxen, lions, elephants, or even humans, anything of a reasonable size and with warm blood and flesh to feast on, are their primary food sources. However, dragons haven’t shown a preference for the age or gender of humans. One interesting thing to note is that although they eat the flesh, they have a particular taste for blood. Sometimes, when in need of a quick burst of energy, they will only drink the blood of their prey and leave the flesh. This is seen as barbaric by most other species of dragons. Still, with western dragons being the second largest species, we tend not to mess with them and their dietary habits.
Drake: The drake is a dragon with four limbs, much like a lizard, although usually far more significant in size than the average lizard. A potent example of a drake in the natural world is the Komodo Dragon, a large species of minotaur lizard in Indonesia. These creatures have low-slung bodies, like crocodiles and alligators, with bellies across the ground. However, due to their natural habitat and human greed, wild drakes have been increasingly difficult to get notes from and other scholars to talk with. Drakes who are found are highly hostile and not open much to talking, but with enough food and gold, these dragons could easily talk your ear off.
Diet: These family-oriented dragons hunt together in packs; their size and numbers are easily strong enough to take down small herds of water buffalo, wildebeests, elk, and moose.
Feydragons: These dragons are about the size of a cat, each having an iridescent coat of scales that reflected all colors of the rainbow, predominantly reflecting one particular color, which changed with age. They had a long, prehensile tail and platinum-colored, butterfly-like wings. Like true dragons, faerie dragons grew stronger with age but matured much more quickly and lived shorter lives. Because their predominant scale hue ran the colors of the rainbow over their lifetime, their color directly indicated their age and power. The scales of a young hatchling were almost always red, and those of a fully mature dragon (over 50 years old) were violet. Most dragons leave these small ones alone because it is not worth expending calories to catch these little critters. But these small dragons are known across the globe for their beautiful woven tapestries and the symphonies they create with their wings.
Diet: Their diet mainly consists of small bugs caught in the air, from trees and bushes, and off the ground. They also fed on fruits, berries, nectar, and butterflies, which they ate to get the color and look of their wings.
Sea Orc: A Sea Orc has no arms or legs. It sports fins on the top portion and every few meters across its body, including one long fin that runs from the bottom of its head to its tail. A Sea Orc has little in the way of bones; it slithers through the waters like a snake. This assists the Sea Orc in attacking its prey. Sea Orc eggs cannot be fertilized in deep water, and smaller Sea Orcs cannot survive the pressure. Adult Sea Orcs have to head to shallower waters to mate. It is believed that the Sea Orc typically goes to warmer climates for mating.
Female Sea Orcs lay their eggs at the shoreline, close enough to the surface to be safe from the environmental killers but far enough from the water line that the parents can still protect their offspring. The eggs will grow for several months and will be born after size months.
Diet: These massive beasts eat mostly fish and aquatic life, anything they can catch; on rare occasions, they will eat a dragon, but that only happens when a rowdy juvenile dragon decides to go after a Sea Orcs calf.
Wyvern: The Wyvern is about the same size as the Arctic dragon, though in weight, they are closer to their brother, the Drake. The Wyvern is a two-legged dragon with two wings. They are believed to be faster than the more enormous Dragon. Their head is large and round, and they have a more petite mouth than most dragons. The body is thick but with a soft underbelly. The tail of the Wyvern is the most deadly. It is long serpentlike with a large mass at the end. They can also have a load of spikes within the ball or a significant spike at the top. The Wyvern uses this ball as its primary weapon, capable of smashing through most creatures, including other dragon's scales.
For its size, the Wyvern holds a large amount of weight. Most of this weight is within its thick scales. Anyone who has fought a Wyvern will inform you that getting through their body is next to impossible. The scales overlap several times, and underneath them is a thin net of tissue that absorbs impact and is resistant to being cut.
Diet: Moose, Elk, and Caribou are everyday staples of a wyvern diet, although anything that moves fits the wyvern needs as they have to eat at least 400 pounds of food every three days.
Humans: Not much is left from humans after they destroyed themselves; greed took out most of them, and the explosions hurt the rest. Humans have flocked to their caves deep in the ground. Most dragons leave humans alone, but humans have tried to take back their world a few times, but us dragons have quickly stamped out those little uprisings. Although some dragons keep humans as pets, their crafty little grabbers are relatively good at crafting the little things they need. Some dragons keep them for wealth status, and others just eat them for a rare treat.
Prey animals: Not much needs to be said here; anything a dragon can catch and eat is a prey animal.
2024.05.15 00:51 DeatonationgGrenade Side/main character additions for my book Anastasius!
Hello everyone! I’m running something for my book that I’m sure you’ll enjoy! I’m writing a book titled Anastasius which is Greek for Renewal. But I was thinking of a fun way to raise money for the book and a fun way to interact with potential readers! So I was thinking, if I give the characters who will be in my book, perhaps there could be a fundraiser for this! It will be $10 USD per character and there is no limit to how many characters you’d like! I’ll post the sheet for each character and you can pick and choose which tribe you’d like create your own character! If you have anymore questions I’ll be happy to answer! I take payments through PayPal as it’s the only thing I understand how to use!
Creatures of Renewal:
As written by Wyvern Scholars
Amphiptere:
Amphipteres generally were said to have light-colored feathers like a sunrise, a serpentine body, bat-like wings with feathers covering most of the forearm and often greenish in coloration, and a long tail much like a wyvern's tail. Others are described as covered in feathers with a spiked tail, bird-like wings, and a beak-like snout.
These small dragons are known to go after smaller prey like rodents and birds, as their habitatsavanna's heat, leavingrests. However, large colonies have been known to live in constructed settlements. Still, any knowledge of a leader has yet to be discovered. It has been rumored that the Amphiptere changes leaders when either the current one dies or willingly gives up the position of tribal leader.
Habitat: Forests, Jungles, or the forested remnants of human cities.
Arctic Dragon:
These giant, wooly dragons stand five feet taller than the most significant polar bears; their powerful muscles and jet-black skin under their blueish-white fur dominate most northern regions. Human settlements are where they prowl, waiting for humans hidden in these desolate territories for the perfect time to strike. These areas are far too cold for most dragons. Still, the Arctic dragon has adapted to survive in these brutal conditions. However, females only move southwards when their young are ready to be born. Once the younglings are old enough to walk short distances independently, the mother and cub begin trekking back toward the tundra.
Diet: These dragons hunt down various arctic prey, ranging from the smallest Arctic hares to the giant whales. Anything these dragons can get their talons on is food to them. Although young Arctic dragons do not have the speed or endurance their parents have, they rely on their parents to bring them back something they can eat.
Coatyl: The most noticeable feature of Coatyls is the feathered wings. These wings comprise a humerus connected to a radius and an ulna connected to metacarpals. The wings of a Coatyl allow it to fly, which is the primary method of locomotion. In unbonded Coatyls, the scapulars and front feathers are dark green, the covert feathers are light yellow or tan, and the primary and secondary flight feathers are red. Coatyls have pressurized sacs in the back of the mouth of a highly volatile and slightly acidic chemical known as coatalic acid. When threatened, muscles surrounding these sacs contract, pushing the coatalic acid out of small holes in the mouth and spraying it. When it comes into contact with air, coatalic acid undergoes a chemical reaction that causes it to ignite and become highly adhesive, sticking to whatever it lands on.
Diet: Coatyls primarily prey on small rodents like mice or rats. Coatyls cannot bite or tear their food to pieces, so they instead swallow their prey whole. They can do this as the upper and lower jaws of a Coatyl are not rigidly attached and have multiple joints, allowing them to open their mouths wide enough to swallow prey whole. While digesting food, Coatyls will typically avoid trying to fly and will instead travel along the ground.
Habitat: These dragons are usually found in the same territories as the Amphiptere. However, these Coatyls have been seen further south in the rainforests due to being more of a tropical species. Their size makes them easy prey for larger animals if they are not careful.
Dragon:
The Western European kind, with four legs, two wings, and (usually) fiery breath. Depending on how the work classifies things, these may be the only ones called "dragons." Otherwise, they're typically called authentic, Western, or European dragons. The Western dragon tends to be massive and heavy, with sharp claws and bat-like wings. They are usually with reptile features but may also have fur or feathers. Sometimes dark colored but always shiny. Some have forked tongues, others crests, fringes, or some other adornment. It always has the ability to spew forth blazing fire and fumes. In the West, dragons live in caves or mountain dwellers and predators. Cave dweller dragons stay in the coldness of the dark most of the time. The caves, filled with fire and water, are easily guarded and located close to towns, where food is convenient. Mountain predators live in cave-riddled mountains that provide an invincible tower and protection.
Diet: Western dragons tend to be considered carnivores. They like meat, flesh, and blood as their primary food source and are too fussy about the source. Sheep, cows, oxen, lions, elephants, or even humans, anything of a reasonable size and with warm blood and flesh to feast on, are their primary food sources. However, dragons haven’t shown a preference for the age or gender of humans. One interesting thing to note is that although they eat the flesh, they have a particular taste for blood. Sometimes, when in need of a quick burst of energy, they will only drink the blood of their prey and leave the flesh. This is seen as barbaric by most other species of dragons. Still, with western dragons being the second largest species, we tend not to mess with them and their dietary habits.
Drake: The drake is a dragon with four limbs, much like a lizard, although usually far more significant in size than the average lizard. A potent example of a drake in the natural world is the Komodo Dragon, a large species of minotaur lizard in Indonesia. These creatures have low-slung bodies, like crocodiles and alligators, with bellies across the ground. However, due to their natural habitat and human greed, wild drakes have been increasingly difficult to get notes from and other scholars to talk with. Drakes who are found are highly hostile and not open much to talking, but with enough food and gold, these dragons could easily talk your ear off.
Diet: These family-oriented dragons hunt together in packs; their size and numbers are easily strong enough to take down small herds of water buffalo, wildebeests, elk, and moose.
Feydragons: These dragons are about the size of a cat, each having an iridescent coat of scales that reflected all colors of the rainbow, predominantly reflecting one particular color, which changed with age. They had a long, prehensile tail and platinum-colored, butterfly-like wings. Like true dragons, faerie dragons grew stronger with age but matured much more quickly and lived shorter lives. Because their predominant scale hue ran the colors of the rainbow over their lifetime, their color directly indicated their age and power. The scales of a young hatchling were almost always red, and those of a fully mature dragon (over 50 years old) were violet. Most dragons leave these small ones alone because it is not worth expending calories to catch these little critters. But these small dragons are known across the globe for their beautiful woven tapestries and the symphonies they create with their wings.
Diet: Their diet mainly consists of small bugs caught in the air, from trees and bushes, and off the ground. They also fed on fruits, berries, nectar, and butterflies, which they ate to get the color and look of their wings.
Sea Orc: A Sea Orc has no arms or legs. It sports fins on the top portion and every few meters across its body, including one long fin that runs from the bottom of its head to its tail. A Sea Orc has little in the way of bones; it slithers through the waters like a snake. This assists the Sea Orc in attacking its prey. Sea Orc eggs cannot be fertilized in deep water, and smaller Sea Orcs cannot survive the pressure. Adult Sea Orcs have to head to shallower waters to mate. It is believed that the Sea Orc typically goes to warmer climates for mating.
Female Sea Orcs lay their eggs at the shoreline, close enough to the surface to be safe from the environmental killers but far enough from the water line that the parents can still protect their offspring. The eggs will grow for several months and will be born after size months.
Diet: These massive beasts eat mostly fish and aquatic life, anything they can catch; on rare occasions, they will eat a dragon, but that only happens when a rowdy juvenile dragon decides to go after a Sea Orcs calf.
Wyvern: The Wyvern is about the same size as the Arctic dragon, though in weight, they are closer to their brother, the Drake. The Wyvern is a two-legged dragon with two wings. They are believed to be faster than the more enormous Dragon. Their head is large and round, and they have a more petite mouth than most dragons. The body is thick but with a soft underbelly. The tail of the Wyvern is the most deadly. It is long serpentlike with a large mass at the end. They can also have a load of spikes within the ball or a significant spike at the top. The Wyvern uses this ball as its primary weapon, capable of smashing through most creatures, including other dragon's scales.
For its size, the Wyvern holds a large amount of weight. Most of this weight is within its thick scales. Anyone who has fought a Wyvern will inform you that getting through their body is next to impossible. The scales overlap several times, and underneath them is a thin net of tissue that absorbs impact and is resistant to being cut.
Diet: Moose, Elk, and Caribou are everyday staples of a wyvern diet, although anything that moves fits the wyvern needs as they have to eat at least 400 pounds of food every three days.
Humans: Not much is left from humans after they destroyed themselves; greed took out most of them, and the explosions hurt the rest. Humans have flocked to their caves deep in the ground. Most dragons leave humans alone, but humans have tried to take back their world a few times, but us dragons have quickly stamped out those little uprisings. Although some dragons keep humans as pets, their crafty little grabbers are relatively good at crafting the little things they need. Some dragons keep them for wealth status, and others just eat them for a rare treat.
Prey animals: Not much needs to be said here; anything a dragon can catch and eat is a prey animal.
submitted by DeatonationgGrenade to WingsOfFire [link] [comments]
Creatures of Renewal:
As written by Wyvern Scholars
Amphiptere:
Amphipteres generally were said to have light-colored feathers like a sunrise, a serpentine body, bat-like wings with feathers covering most of the forearm and often greenish in coloration, and a long tail much like a wyvern's tail. Others are described as covered in feathers with a spiked tail, bird-like wings, and a beak-like snout.
These small dragons are known to go after smaller prey like rodents and birds, as their habitatsavanna's heat, leavingrests. However, large colonies have been known to live in constructed settlements. Still, any knowledge of a leader has yet to be discovered. It has been rumored that the Amphiptere changes leaders when either the current one dies or willingly gives up the position of tribal leader.
Habitat: Forests, Jungles, or the forested remnants of human cities.
Arctic Dragon:
These giant, wooly dragons stand five feet taller than the most significant polar bears; their powerful muscles and jet-black skin under their blueish-white fur dominate most northern regions. Human settlements are where they prowl, waiting for humans hidden in these desolate territories for the perfect time to strike. These areas are far too cold for most dragons. Still, the Arctic dragon has adapted to survive in these brutal conditions. However, females only move southwards when their young are ready to be born. Once the younglings are old enough to walk short distances independently, the mother and cub begin trekking back toward the tundra.
Diet: These dragons hunt down various arctic prey, ranging from the smallest Arctic hares to the giant whales. Anything these dragons can get their talons on is food to them. Although young Arctic dragons do not have the speed or endurance their parents have, they rely on their parents to bring them back something they can eat.
Coatyl: The most noticeable feature of Coatyls is the feathered wings. These wings comprise a humerus connected to a radius and an ulna connected to metacarpals. The wings of a Coatyl allow it to fly, which is the primary method of locomotion. In unbonded Coatyls, the scapulars and front feathers are dark green, the covert feathers are light yellow or tan, and the primary and secondary flight feathers are red. Coatyls have pressurized sacs in the back of the mouth of a highly volatile and slightly acidic chemical known as coatalic acid. When threatened, muscles surrounding these sacs contract, pushing the coatalic acid out of small holes in the mouth and spraying it. When it comes into contact with air, coatalic acid undergoes a chemical reaction that causes it to ignite and become highly adhesive, sticking to whatever it lands on.
Diet: Coatyls primarily prey on small rodents like mice or rats. Coatyls cannot bite or tear their food to pieces, so they instead swallow their prey whole. They can do this as the upper and lower jaws of a Coatyl are not rigidly attached and have multiple joints, allowing them to open their mouths wide enough to swallow prey whole. While digesting food, Coatyls will typically avoid trying to fly and will instead travel along the ground.
Habitat: These dragons are usually found in the same territories as the Amphiptere. However, these Coatyls have been seen further south in the rainforests due to being more of a tropical species. Their size makes them easy prey for larger animals if they are not careful.
Dragon:
The Western European kind, with four legs, two wings, and (usually) fiery breath. Depending on how the work classifies things, these may be the only ones called "dragons." Otherwise, they're typically called authentic, Western, or European dragons. The Western dragon tends to be massive and heavy, with sharp claws and bat-like wings. They are usually with reptile features but may also have fur or feathers. Sometimes dark colored but always shiny. Some have forked tongues, others crests, fringes, or some other adornment. It always has the ability to spew forth blazing fire and fumes. In the West, dragons live in caves or mountain dwellers and predators. Cave dweller dragons stay in the coldness of the dark most of the time. The caves, filled with fire and water, are easily guarded and located close to towns, where food is convenient. Mountain predators live in cave-riddled mountains that provide an invincible tower and protection.
Diet: Western dragons tend to be considered carnivores. They like meat, flesh, and blood as their primary food source and are too fussy about the source. Sheep, cows, oxen, lions, elephants, or even humans, anything of a reasonable size and with warm blood and flesh to feast on, are their primary food sources. However, dragons haven’t shown a preference for the age or gender of humans. One interesting thing to note is that although they eat the flesh, they have a particular taste for blood. Sometimes, when in need of a quick burst of energy, they will only drink the blood of their prey and leave the flesh. This is seen as barbaric by most other species of dragons. Still, with western dragons being the second largest species, we tend not to mess with them and their dietary habits.
Drake: The drake is a dragon with four limbs, much like a lizard, although usually far more significant in size than the average lizard. A potent example of a drake in the natural world is the Komodo Dragon, a large species of minotaur lizard in Indonesia. These creatures have low-slung bodies, like crocodiles and alligators, with bellies across the ground. However, due to their natural habitat and human greed, wild drakes have been increasingly difficult to get notes from and other scholars to talk with. Drakes who are found are highly hostile and not open much to talking, but with enough food and gold, these dragons could easily talk your ear off.
Diet: These family-oriented dragons hunt together in packs; their size and numbers are easily strong enough to take down small herds of water buffalo, wildebeests, elk, and moose.
Feydragons: These dragons are about the size of a cat, each having an iridescent coat of scales that reflected all colors of the rainbow, predominantly reflecting one particular color, which changed with age. They had a long, prehensile tail and platinum-colored, butterfly-like wings. Like true dragons, faerie dragons grew stronger with age but matured much more quickly and lived shorter lives. Because their predominant scale hue ran the colors of the rainbow over their lifetime, their color directly indicated their age and power. The scales of a young hatchling were almost always red, and those of a fully mature dragon (over 50 years old) were violet. Most dragons leave these small ones alone because it is not worth expending calories to catch these little critters. But these small dragons are known across the globe for their beautiful woven tapestries and the symphonies they create with their wings.
Diet: Their diet mainly consists of small bugs caught in the air, from trees and bushes, and off the ground. They also fed on fruits, berries, nectar, and butterflies, which they ate to get the color and look of their wings.
Sea Orc: A Sea Orc has no arms or legs. It sports fins on the top portion and every few meters across its body, including one long fin that runs from the bottom of its head to its tail. A Sea Orc has little in the way of bones; it slithers through the waters like a snake. This assists the Sea Orc in attacking its prey. Sea Orc eggs cannot be fertilized in deep water, and smaller Sea Orcs cannot survive the pressure. Adult Sea Orcs have to head to shallower waters to mate. It is believed that the Sea Orc typically goes to warmer climates for mating.
Female Sea Orcs lay their eggs at the shoreline, close enough to the surface to be safe from the environmental killers but far enough from the water line that the parents can still protect their offspring. The eggs will grow for several months and will be born after size months.
Diet: These massive beasts eat mostly fish and aquatic life, anything they can catch; on rare occasions, they will eat a dragon, but that only happens when a rowdy juvenile dragon decides to go after a Sea Orcs calf.
Wyvern: The Wyvern is about the same size as the Arctic dragon, though in weight, they are closer to their brother, the Drake. The Wyvern is a two-legged dragon with two wings. They are believed to be faster than the more enormous Dragon. Their head is large and round, and they have a more petite mouth than most dragons. The body is thick but with a soft underbelly. The tail of the Wyvern is the most deadly. It is long serpentlike with a large mass at the end. They can also have a load of spikes within the ball or a significant spike at the top. The Wyvern uses this ball as its primary weapon, capable of smashing through most creatures, including other dragon's scales.
For its size, the Wyvern holds a large amount of weight. Most of this weight is within its thick scales. Anyone who has fought a Wyvern will inform you that getting through their body is next to impossible. The scales overlap several times, and underneath them is a thin net of tissue that absorbs impact and is resistant to being cut.
Diet: Moose, Elk, and Caribou are everyday staples of a wyvern diet, although anything that moves fits the wyvern needs as they have to eat at least 400 pounds of food every three days.
Humans: Not much is left from humans after they destroyed themselves; greed took out most of them, and the explosions hurt the rest. Humans have flocked to their caves deep in the ground. Most dragons leave humans alone, but humans have tried to take back their world a few times, but us dragons have quickly stamped out those little uprisings. Although some dragons keep humans as pets, their crafty little grabbers are relatively good at crafting the little things they need. Some dragons keep them for wealth status, and others just eat them for a rare treat.
Prey animals: Not much needs to be said here; anything a dragon can catch and eat is a prey animal.
2024.05.14 13:22 maniactobe 23F, as a lifetime coflict avoider I feel stuck now as i'm having a troubled relationship with my roommate
hello everyone. these last few days I've been going through a lot and i thought it might be a good idea to ask for help in here.
this year i'm sharing a house with a roommate who turned out to be an immature, spoiled, childish bitch. i've been always respectful to her and i assume i have tried to be as considerate as it's humanly possible.i'm very calm and when at home, i'm usually busy studying or watching movie with a headphone or doing other silent activities. i even don't like talking over the phone that much and at times that i'm obliged to use it, i lower my tone as much as i can. also, as i brought almost 90% of the furniture and the apartment was basically furnished when she arrived, and i agreed her to take the best room.i never even mentioned all the favors I did and I really regret what i did, because none of these roomie-pleasing acts paid off.if anything, she became more controlling and rude.she had talked to me in an offensive manner two times before this but i hadn't said anything in response and had suppressed my anger in order to avoid conflict( classic trauma response, right?).ten days ago i invited my sister over( and i hadnt invited anyone before this) and she traveled hundreds of miles to come and see me. i had done it with her permission and she said it's alright for my sister to come and stay. so she came and stayed a couple of days and we were mostly hanging out outside and we just came back at night to sleep in my own room.she was acting alright in the first 2 days, then she started to act in a passive-aggressive manner –she slammed the door as soon as she heard us preparing the table or quietly laughing, she avoided us each time we were in the living room and would sneakily jump out of her room to use the bathroom or toilet as soon as we moved into my room. she had done this before during the last semester's finals, too. but this time it had got way more obvious and way more aggressive. after my sister left, she quitted even looking at me or saying hi to me when she saw me.( she had done this before too, but i had convinced myself not to take it to the heart specially as she got friendly with me again after the finals were over! she's such an unstable player.) last day she wrote me a scroll on telegram and as hard as she tried to seem cultured and civilized, she just oozed out even more controlling shit.it was the juice of her message: ''don't use the living room for studying. only use it for going to the kitchen or to the toilet, because i feel uncomfortable doing cooking and shit when someone's in there reading.'' i answered that i'm well-aware that living room might be distracting at times, but i'm not bothered by the sound of her doing her stuff and she doesnt need to worry about it and she can also freely use it. but then she started to argue with me saying ''living room is not for studying'' and weeping over her victim complex ''noooo, i'm not comfortable,you MUST go to your room just like i've tolerated you reading now you must act to my desire''. this time finally i became furious and assertively talked to her that it's her problem that she doesn't want to see me AT ALL and for this irrational demand, i would not have any more compliance. i'm silent as a rabbit, not making a fucking noise and really dont occupy much area in a 80 m² living room!! if she wants to use it as well, she's welcomed, but she can't command me to stay prisoned inside my small gloomy room without no proper light. interesting part is that she even doesnt prefer to study in the living room and all she's mad about is she cant use it for toilet and kitchen without coming to see me staying in there. although my whole body was trembling with rage ( and simultaneously with fear of a conflict or a loud argument) i managed to be assertive and talk my words.then she left me unread, although i'm quite sure she's read it.
now although i've come out ratherstrongly, whenever i use the living room, every moment of being there feels like torture.the silence in the living room feels like a ticking bomb that might explode in any minute. i'm anxious af and i have endless ruminations about how she might just walk out of the door and snap at me.she still continues slamming the door and walking thumpering her feet on the ground.also, i know it's very unlikely, but my mind constantly jumps to the possibility of being attacked or she getting physical with me. i'm very sensitive to loud noises and arguments. i try to avoid them as much as i can. i get this semi-panic attack feeling whenever even two strangers argue with eachother. i know me keeping using the living room to my desire will serve her right and will bring me back some power over the household affairs, but i can barely even concentrate this way; while i rigidly sit there, my muscles tense as rock and i hear my hear ponding.
so, i appreciate your advice: do you think i'd better fight or flight? regarding that my finals are arriving in 10 days or so...
P.S: special thanks to you ma' for the perfect upbringing and all that dreadful childhood days you would shout at me – your voice's still ringing in my ears and although you encourage me to stand for my rights, i always fail because i've always been on the lower end of the power imbalance seasaw. i never dared disagreeing with you, now how you expect me to be magically a brave person who can disagree when she's not pleased?
submitted by maniactobe to CPTSD [link] [comments]
this year i'm sharing a house with a roommate who turned out to be an immature, spoiled, childish bitch. i've been always respectful to her and i assume i have tried to be as considerate as it's humanly possible.i'm very calm and when at home, i'm usually busy studying or watching movie with a headphone or doing other silent activities. i even don't like talking over the phone that much and at times that i'm obliged to use it, i lower my tone as much as i can. also, as i brought almost 90% of the furniture and the apartment was basically furnished when she arrived, and i agreed her to take the best room.i never even mentioned all the favors I did and I really regret what i did, because none of these roomie-pleasing acts paid off.if anything, she became more controlling and rude.she had talked to me in an offensive manner two times before this but i hadn't said anything in response and had suppressed my anger in order to avoid conflict( classic trauma response, right?).ten days ago i invited my sister over( and i hadnt invited anyone before this) and she traveled hundreds of miles to come and see me. i had done it with her permission and she said it's alright for my sister to come and stay. so she came and stayed a couple of days and we were mostly hanging out outside and we just came back at night to sleep in my own room.she was acting alright in the first 2 days, then she started to act in a passive-aggressive manner –she slammed the door as soon as she heard us preparing the table or quietly laughing, she avoided us each time we were in the living room and would sneakily jump out of her room to use the bathroom or toilet as soon as we moved into my room. she had done this before during the last semester's finals, too. but this time it had got way more obvious and way more aggressive. after my sister left, she quitted even looking at me or saying hi to me when she saw me.( she had done this before too, but i had convinced myself not to take it to the heart specially as she got friendly with me again after the finals were over! she's such an unstable player.) last day she wrote me a scroll on telegram and as hard as she tried to seem cultured and civilized, she just oozed out even more controlling shit.it was the juice of her message: ''don't use the living room for studying. only use it for going to the kitchen or to the toilet, because i feel uncomfortable doing cooking and shit when someone's in there reading.'' i answered that i'm well-aware that living room might be distracting at times, but i'm not bothered by the sound of her doing her stuff and she doesnt need to worry about it and she can also freely use it. but then she started to argue with me saying ''living room is not for studying'' and weeping over her victim complex ''noooo, i'm not comfortable,you MUST go to your room just like i've tolerated you reading now you must act to my desire''. this time finally i became furious and assertively talked to her that it's her problem that she doesn't want to see me AT ALL and for this irrational demand, i would not have any more compliance. i'm silent as a rabbit, not making a fucking noise and really dont occupy much area in a 80 m² living room!! if she wants to use it as well, she's welcomed, but she can't command me to stay prisoned inside my small gloomy room without no proper light. interesting part is that she even doesnt prefer to study in the living room and all she's mad about is she cant use it for toilet and kitchen without coming to see me staying in there. although my whole body was trembling with rage ( and simultaneously with fear of a conflict or a loud argument) i managed to be assertive and talk my words.then she left me unread, although i'm quite sure she's read it.
now although i've come out ratherstrongly, whenever i use the living room, every moment of being there feels like torture.the silence in the living room feels like a ticking bomb that might explode in any minute. i'm anxious af and i have endless ruminations about how she might just walk out of the door and snap at me.she still continues slamming the door and walking thumpering her feet on the ground.also, i know it's very unlikely, but my mind constantly jumps to the possibility of being attacked or she getting physical with me. i'm very sensitive to loud noises and arguments. i try to avoid them as much as i can. i get this semi-panic attack feeling whenever even two strangers argue with eachother. i know me keeping using the living room to my desire will serve her right and will bring me back some power over the household affairs, but i can barely even concentrate this way; while i rigidly sit there, my muscles tense as rock and i hear my hear ponding.
so, i appreciate your advice: do you think i'd better fight or flight? regarding that my finals are arriving in 10 days or so...
P.S: special thanks to you ma' for the perfect upbringing and all that dreadful childhood days you would shout at me – your voice's still ringing in my ears and although you encourage me to stand for my rights, i always fail because i've always been on the lower end of the power imbalance seasaw. i never dared disagreeing with you, now how you expect me to be magically a brave person who can disagree when she's not pleased?
2024.05.14 07:32 Unique_Relief_5601 Adrenaline is a Hell of a Drug pt. 9/???
Little Author's Note up here since it was missed in the last chapter by some people: I don't approve of anyone "narrating" or using my story for their youtube channels or whatever as it makes me uncomfortable. I’ve been getting messages whenever I post a chapter asking the same thing and I keep saying no. If you see this story on youtube or elsewhere, I didn’t approve of it or give them my permission to do so.
Also I hope you enjoy this chapter, I had some difficulty writing it, so it’s probably not my best quality.
Cerelia, Altrin Female, Captain of The Opal Star
I smirk at my wrist data pad as I can see Triwt is basically hunting and chasing down the remaining pirates while expertly leading them to me for a trap.
“Triwt, you know me so well.” I say with a fully smug tone as I ready my rifle and prepare to open fire.
Not yet
The footsteps are getting louder.
Not yet…
The footsteps, given how good my hearing is, have now rounded the corner and there’s a shriek of terror.
“Boys! Turn back and save your damn Captain! The damn girl has me!”
I can’t help but smirk, it seems the ugly bastard did come aboard the ship. What’s better is that Triwt has grabbed him, leaving the remaining 4 pirates not looking this way.
Now.
Triwt, Female Valis-Trobat Hybrid, Security Commander
I’m slightly annoyed as I have to constantly dodge and weave going through the corridor. These dumbasses aren’t even aiming where they're shooting. I quickly duck low to the ground to dodge a barrage of plasma bolts, when I hear the one thing I was looking forward to. Click click click…
Silence follows the clicking of empty TOR’s besides the frantic running. It’s then replaced by one of the pirates, not the Captain, shrieking as she runs ahead of the others in a panic. In no sense am I a sadistic person, but however in this situation, I might have smiled a bit to her reaction as I pick up the pace and quickly enter melee range.
Hm, maybe we can afford one prisoner…
I see the corner coming up as I whip my body around and grab the Captain with my tail.
EWWWW He’s all slimy and mucusy! Goddess this is worse than Jordan Cores bleeding on my fur. EWWW!!!
“Boys! Turn back and save your damn Captain! The damn girl has me!”
Despite my own internal hatred of the sensation of having to get that gross slime like mucus on my tail of all things, I still pull the Captain back as they round the corner looking back at me as they abandon their captain. I give them a wave right before a hail of gunfire shreds through them, leaving only a fine mist.
I’m surprised Cerelia is allowed to even own such a modified weapon. I can’t even shoot it while holding it with all 4 of my arms due to the recoil! She says it’s registered as a ceremonial weapon. I suppose a sudden funeral is a ceremony in itself.
I smirk at the thought before returning my attention to this gross captain wrapped up in my tail.
Cerelia, Altrin Female, Captain of The Opal Star
I let out a relaxed sigh as I released the trigger from my grip. I don’t particularly enjoy battle, but there seems to be something within my own instincts that triggers dopamine at the end of a battle.
Probably something to do with Altrins being a hunter race before we were modern and spacefaring. Might have to ask a historian about that, if not at the very least a psychologist.
I lower my rifle as Triwt slithers down the hall, her fur was undeniably red in a few spots where it came into contact with Jordan’s blood, but it was mostly on her uniform. She keeps moving with the Alcoranth Captain getting dragged along by Triwt’s tail as she had already bound up and gagged them.
“I can deal with the blood of Jordan Cores, but take this bastard away from me before I slit his throat for getting mucus on my tail.”
Oh, she is pissed. She’s just doing a good job at mostly containing it.
I nod before speaking, “Just knock him out for now and we’ll put him in a cryopod or something. His slime-like excretions from his skin might make him an easy flight risk since we can assume he can slip out of handcuffs and other bindings fairly easily.”
Triwt nods at me and uses a Stun Baton to knock him out for now after hitting him with probably more volts than regulated.
I suppose it’s better than bashing his head against the wall until he passes out.
The remaining guards who were left with me take the now prisoner captain away from Triwt and begin transporting him to a cryopod room meant for emergencies like if the ship’s thrusters were to stop working and we’re years away from rescue.
We could just set up an SOS frequency broadcast and then put everyone in cryo until rescue arrives. But now, it’s a makeshift prison for a cowardly pirate.
Now… for the real battle in all of this. The battle on the inside.
Lys, Verkrawn Male, Fauna Research Specialist
Silence. Well, except my ears are ringing from the sound of gunfire that has now stopped.
I take in a shaky breath in what feels like the first time in forever. Everything is shaking now that the fighting seems to have stopped. It seems I’m not the only one who was holding their breath for so long as other crew members near me seemed to breathe in, while a few start to break down crying.
We’re not fighters like security, Triwt, or Cerelia. Most of us had never seen people die, to say the least how brutal it was to see how Jordan Cores attacked the Alcoranth. I feel my face with my clawed hands and feel the warm liquid of my tears running down my face.
When did I start crying?
The realization hit me like a powerloader as it’s my turn to break down crying, my own legs failing me as they shook before I found myself weeping on the floor as the thoughts and emotions flooded my head with what happened and how terrible this was. I keep crying as I feel the large paw of my older sister as she slowly sits me up and holds me in a warm embrace. It makes me think about when I was younger. The days when she and I were in the orphanage. She used to hold me just like this after she would chase away the older kids who would be mean to me. I still remember some of the things she’d say to them.
“I don’t care if a Verkawn’s scales can deflect most bullets, he still has feelings!” The first thing she ever said to the bullies as she chased them off. It was also the day I met her. She had lost her family due to a Slaver raid on the colony world she was living on at the time. She didn’t tell me much about it, and I doubt she would tell me even today, but she always called me her little brother, so I started calling her my older sister. It’s been like that since.
I keep crying until it’s more of a sniffle as I slowly return the embrace.
“They will never hurt you like they hurt me, Lys.” She whispers to me before slowly turning her attention to the crew members with a sad expression. “Nor any of you. Oh, none of this was ever supposed to happen.”
“Y-You can’t predict pirates, Cerelia”
“I know, but they got so close to hurting and enslaving you. I failed to keep you all safe.”
“Cerelia, we’re fine. No one got hurt physically. We should probably just go to the nearest planetary city, maybe see some therapists and psychologists while the ship gets repaired.”
Cerelia nods as she thinks about what I said.
“Yeah, but what about the furless beast? What are we supposed to do about it?” A member says as everyone was slowly coming to grips that they are alive and well. “Are we just going to keep it here? Who knows if it’ll attack us again like it did to Lys or that Alcoranth on the floor there!?”
“He was scared!” Cerelia counters, with a hint of personal anger in her tone. “He couldn’t understand us and was only trying to escape because he thought he was in danger!”
“He was in danger? He is the danger for all I’ve seen!” They countered as I felt like shrinking down and hiding away, before a bit more of an emotional burning sensation rose up in me.
“Shut up!” I suddenly snapped. Silence follows as they wait for me to say something. I have never raised my voice.
“Sure, they found us in here because Jordan Cores had a chip on him, but he didn’t know about it! Not only that, but he at least protected us from that psychopath, breaking his own body and getting shot before doing so! You haven’t even had time to interact with him. While my interactions with him were brief, I could at least tell that he was scared and that he was sorry!” I huff as I silently cry while I look at both Cerelia and the crew member. I think their name is R’dorn. They’ve always been brash and rude, so I had a tendency to avoid them.
R’dorn looks at me annoyed, but as they are seemingly unable to come up with a good counter argument, they storm out of the safe room.
I look at Cerelia and Triwt before sighing and sitting down. “Sorry…”
“It’s alright, you kinda said what we were all thinking.” Someone says as they place a wing on me. “That, and R’dorn needs to shut up every now and then.” There’s sounds of agreement before it becomes a group embrace of comfort. Much different to huddling in fear.
“So wait, where is Jordan Cores now? Is he okay?”
“He’s in Med Bay 07’s only regeneration pod. He’s going to be fine, but it’s going to be a while until he’s out due to his injuries.” Triwt responds as she slithers to the entrance of the room. “How about everyone gets cleaned up, or takes a hot shower to calm their nerves, and in about 2 hours time, we can see how Jordan Cores is holding up?”
That sounds like a good idea. To wash away the stress and some time to think, it sounds super nice.
I let out a sigh and nod. “Yeah, that sounds good to me… I’ll be there then. I guess if everyone else wants to show up, you can as well? Not like I can stop you or force you to, but the suggestion is there. Just trying to be considerate.”
With that, I stand up and I’m escorted back to my room to try and freshen up and clear my head.
And that is chapter 9! I was personally a little bit of mental and emotional wreck while writing because sometimes I don't know what I'm doing. At least that's how it feels. Gonna try and do some experimenting as I kinda want to explore some places now as we’ve been stuck on The Opal Star since the very beginning. So what are we feeling? A desert world, tropical world, or maybe a world that’s high in gravity, but Jordan seems to be just fine? Let me know your thoughts, ideas, and suggestions below, and thank you so much for reading!
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submitted by Unique_Relief_5601 to HFY [link] [comments]
Also I hope you enjoy this chapter, I had some difficulty writing it, so it’s probably not my best quality.
I smirk at my wrist data pad as I can see Triwt is basically hunting and chasing down the remaining pirates while expertly leading them to me for a trap.
“Triwt, you know me so well.” I say with a fully smug tone as I ready my rifle and prepare to open fire.
Not yet
The footsteps are getting louder.
Not yet…
The footsteps, given how good my hearing is, have now rounded the corner and there’s a shriek of terror.
“Boys! Turn back and save your damn Captain! The damn girl has me!”
I can’t help but smirk, it seems the ugly bastard did come aboard the ship. What’s better is that Triwt has grabbed him, leaving the remaining 4 pirates not looking this way.
Now.
I’m slightly annoyed as I have to constantly dodge and weave going through the corridor. These dumbasses aren’t even aiming where they're shooting. I quickly duck low to the ground to dodge a barrage of plasma bolts, when I hear the one thing I was looking forward to. Click click click…
Silence follows the clicking of empty TOR’s besides the frantic running. It’s then replaced by one of the pirates, not the Captain, shrieking as she runs ahead of the others in a panic. In no sense am I a sadistic person, but however in this situation, I might have smiled a bit to her reaction as I pick up the pace and quickly enter melee range.
Hm, maybe we can afford one prisoner…
I see the corner coming up as I whip my body around and grab the Captain with my tail.
EWWWW He’s all slimy and mucusy! Goddess this is worse than Jordan Cores bleeding on my fur. EWWW!!!
“Boys! Turn back and save your damn Captain! The damn girl has me!”
Despite my own internal hatred of the sensation of having to get that gross slime like mucus on my tail of all things, I still pull the Captain back as they round the corner looking back at me as they abandon their captain. I give them a wave right before a hail of gunfire shreds through them, leaving only a fine mist.
I’m surprised Cerelia is allowed to even own such a modified weapon. I can’t even shoot it while holding it with all 4 of my arms due to the recoil! She says it’s registered as a ceremonial weapon. I suppose a sudden funeral is a ceremony in itself.
I smirk at the thought before returning my attention to this gross captain wrapped up in my tail.
I let out a relaxed sigh as I released the trigger from my grip. I don’t particularly enjoy battle, but there seems to be something within my own instincts that triggers dopamine at the end of a battle.
Probably something to do with Altrins being a hunter race before we were modern and spacefaring. Might have to ask a historian about that, if not at the very least a psychologist.
I lower my rifle as Triwt slithers down the hall, her fur was undeniably red in a few spots where it came into contact with Jordan’s blood, but it was mostly on her uniform. She keeps moving with the Alcoranth Captain getting dragged along by Triwt’s tail as she had already bound up and gagged them.
“I can deal with the blood of Jordan Cores, but take this bastard away from me before I slit his throat for getting mucus on my tail.”
Oh, she is pissed. She’s just doing a good job at mostly containing it.
I nod before speaking, “Just knock him out for now and we’ll put him in a cryopod or something. His slime-like excretions from his skin might make him an easy flight risk since we can assume he can slip out of handcuffs and other bindings fairly easily.”
Triwt nods at me and uses a Stun Baton to knock him out for now after hitting him with probably more volts than regulated.
I suppose it’s better than bashing his head against the wall until he passes out.
The remaining guards who were left with me take the now prisoner captain away from Triwt and begin transporting him to a cryopod room meant for emergencies like if the ship’s thrusters were to stop working and we’re years away from rescue.
We could just set up an SOS frequency broadcast and then put everyone in cryo until rescue arrives. But now, it’s a makeshift prison for a cowardly pirate.
Now… for the real battle in all of this. The battle on the inside.
Silence. Well, except my ears are ringing from the sound of gunfire that has now stopped.
I take in a shaky breath in what feels like the first time in forever. Everything is shaking now that the fighting seems to have stopped. It seems I’m not the only one who was holding their breath for so long as other crew members near me seemed to breathe in, while a few start to break down crying.
We’re not fighters like security, Triwt, or Cerelia. Most of us had never seen people die, to say the least how brutal it was to see how Jordan Cores attacked the Alcoranth. I feel my face with my clawed hands and feel the warm liquid of my tears running down my face.
When did I start crying?
The realization hit me like a powerloader as it’s my turn to break down crying, my own legs failing me as they shook before I found myself weeping on the floor as the thoughts and emotions flooded my head with what happened and how terrible this was. I keep crying as I feel the large paw of my older sister as she slowly sits me up and holds me in a warm embrace. It makes me think about when I was younger. The days when she and I were in the orphanage. She used to hold me just like this after she would chase away the older kids who would be mean to me. I still remember some of the things she’d say to them.
“I don’t care if a Verkawn’s scales can deflect most bullets, he still has feelings!” The first thing she ever said to the bullies as she chased them off. It was also the day I met her. She had lost her family due to a Slaver raid on the colony world she was living on at the time. She didn’t tell me much about it, and I doubt she would tell me even today, but she always called me her little brother, so I started calling her my older sister. It’s been like that since.
I keep crying until it’s more of a sniffle as I slowly return the embrace.
“They will never hurt you like they hurt me, Lys.” She whispers to me before slowly turning her attention to the crew members with a sad expression. “Nor any of you. Oh, none of this was ever supposed to happen.”
“Y-You can’t predict pirates, Cerelia”
“I know, but they got so close to hurting and enslaving you. I failed to keep you all safe.”
“Cerelia, we’re fine. No one got hurt physically. We should probably just go to the nearest planetary city, maybe see some therapists and psychologists while the ship gets repaired.”
Cerelia nods as she thinks about what I said.
“Yeah, but what about the furless beast? What are we supposed to do about it?” A member says as everyone was slowly coming to grips that they are alive and well. “Are we just going to keep it here? Who knows if it’ll attack us again like it did to Lys or that Alcoranth on the floor there!?”
“He was scared!” Cerelia counters, with a hint of personal anger in her tone. “He couldn’t understand us and was only trying to escape because he thought he was in danger!”
“He was in danger? He is the danger for all I’ve seen!” They countered as I felt like shrinking down and hiding away, before a bit more of an emotional burning sensation rose up in me.
“Shut up!” I suddenly snapped. Silence follows as they wait for me to say something. I have never raised my voice.
“Sure, they found us in here because Jordan Cores had a chip on him, but he didn’t know about it! Not only that, but he at least protected us from that psychopath, breaking his own body and getting shot before doing so! You haven’t even had time to interact with him. While my interactions with him were brief, I could at least tell that he was scared and that he was sorry!” I huff as I silently cry while I look at both Cerelia and the crew member. I think their name is R’dorn. They’ve always been brash and rude, so I had a tendency to avoid them.
R’dorn looks at me annoyed, but as they are seemingly unable to come up with a good counter argument, they storm out of the safe room.
I look at Cerelia and Triwt before sighing and sitting down. “Sorry…”
“It’s alright, you kinda said what we were all thinking.” Someone says as they place a wing on me. “That, and R’dorn needs to shut up every now and then.” There’s sounds of agreement before it becomes a group embrace of comfort. Much different to huddling in fear.
“So wait, where is Jordan Cores now? Is he okay?”
“He’s in Med Bay 07’s only regeneration pod. He’s going to be fine, but it’s going to be a while until he’s out due to his injuries.” Triwt responds as she slithers to the entrance of the room. “How about everyone gets cleaned up, or takes a hot shower to calm their nerves, and in about 2 hours time, we can see how Jordan Cores is holding up?”
That sounds like a good idea. To wash away the stress and some time to think, it sounds super nice.
I let out a sigh and nod. “Yeah, that sounds good to me… I’ll be there then. I guess if everyone else wants to show up, you can as well? Not like I can stop you or force you to, but the suggestion is there. Just trying to be considerate.”
With that, I stand up and I’m escorted back to my room to try and freshen up and clear my head.
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You are not recommended to try spells to bring a lover back if you are going through the following: You know that your relationship with your ex is toxic and the best painful option to take in this is to move on. It is not a good choice to be in a relationship that is un-natural, one that is built on witchcraft. The love spark as to be their at all times.
Even the most powerful love spell may not fulfill the things that are required for a real relationship to be in place. Love should be natural and if your partner looses interest in you, its better that you let them follow the heart. If one door closes, expect another open infront of you.
Therefore witchcraft or love spells should not be the ultimate solution to mending a broken heart in a relationship, one has to make love exist naturally by doing the right things to your partner, the things that will recapture the inner feelings of love and affection as you did in the start of the relationship.
Only if and when all has been tried and failed to work that one should order for my love spells that actually work, and indeed this will be the last nail in the coffin to fix your troubled relationship permanently.
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2024.05.13 22:28 Lord_Long_Rod Hunting Sasquatch for Communists, Featuring Ms. Anna Conda
During the course of my career as an alpha Sasquatch hunting, Dogman destroying, pussy crushing, luxury watch loving dude, I have run into this particular woman a few times. She is one part uber sensuality, and the other part deadly. Yes, I am speaking about the lovely, Anna Conda. I bring her up because I had another run-in with her last year.
Anna and I first joined forces, so to speak, when she acted as a go-between in my business deal with the Chinese to sell them bigfoot parts. See, I would hunt and kill the critters, cut them up, deliver the parts to Anna, who in turn gave me a suitcase containing unmarked American hundred-dollar bills, then she would transport the bigfoot parts to the Chinese. I was never really sure of what the sneaky-ass Chinese were doing with the body parts. All I knew for sure is that they are extracting certain materials from them, then synthesizing them with some other shit, creating some sort of drug. Whether it then becomes a bio-weapon or a dick stimulant, I do not know. Neither do I care. As long as they kept the hundies coming, I was good.
Now, while Anna is of Russian descent, she is a freelancer. She will work for any sick, skeevy motherfucker out there. She does not care. She has no conscience, at least not in the traditional sense as we understand it in western civilization. Today she is working for the Chinese, and tomorrow she may be working for Hamas. She is a slippery motherfucker.
So here is how it went down. At 11:32 p.m. on a Friday in September of last year I get a call on my cell phone. When the call came in I was balls deep into this hot little lass I picked up at the bus station a little earlier in the evening from an old swarthy chap named “Colorado Joe”. He wanted to sell me the girl. I was assured she was over 20 years old. I told him I needed to take her out for a test ride, which he agreed to.
So, there I was, balls deep in “Bing Bang Yun”, and my phone rings. Of course, I silence all incoming calls not in my contacts list. Thus, I knew that I must know the caller. In mid stroke I reached over to the nightstand to retrieve my cell and looked at it. It was a call from “Sergio”. I thought, “Oh shit…. I am going to have to cut the Oriental bang circus short.” When Sergio calls, I have to respond…immediately. He has the best blow on the east coast!!
“Hey, Serge! What’s up?”, I asked. All he said was, “Hooters. 2:00 a.m.”, then hung up. This was obviously the rendezvous for the transaction. Now, understand that Serge was not talking about the chicken wing restaurant. Hooters was code, in case the feds were listening in on the line. “Hooters” meant the titty bar out on Highway 69 called “The Plump Rump”. We had a communications code we used.
It was a long haul to the titty bar, so I needed to get moving. I had no time to return the girl to Colorado Joe, so I took her with me. I had her blow me on the way to the meeting with Sergio, telling her that her performance would make the difference on whether I save her from Joe or not. Of course, after she was done I tossed her out of my speeding truck and down, over the bridge, and into the Wendigo River below. I did not need any complications in my life right now.
I arrived at The Plump Rump at 2:00 a.m. on the dot. I saw the manager, Lou Skunt, sitting at the bar when I walked inside. I nodded. He walked over and said to me, “Use my office for the meeting The parties are already in there waiting for you.” I nodded and then headed to Lou’s office. Then it hit me: Lou said the “PARTIES” are already here. That is, parties, meaning more than one person. It was not just Sergio. It was 2 or more people! Lou was probably in for a cut of whatever was about to go down.
Something was bad fucked up!! I know for a fact that Sergio never brings anyone with him on a deal, at least not with me. He is too distrustful of people to do that, and too fucking mean to need protection. Something was wrong. I was just as likely to get whacked when I enter Lou’s office as anything else. I needed a moment to think things through.
I took a spot in front of one of the performance poles to watch a young, swarthy Mexican lass perform. My mind quickly strayed from the problem at hand to this brown chick’s ass and tits. She was not a great looking chick, but her body was smoking!! I quickly became aroused. I thought to myself, “Goddamn Asian bitches!! They are just like Chinese food – after 2 hours you are ready for some more!!”
When the little Mexican chick went on break I motioned her over to my table. “Hola Senior!!”, she said. I pulled out a clear plastic baggie of blow and dropped it on the table. Her eyes grew wide and slobber starting falling from her mouth. Blow is like catnip for strippers. Thus, she fell under my spell immediately.
The next thing I know, this brown girl was on my lap, dry humping me like a feral bitch dog in heat. I had to bang her. I NEEDED to see my wang penetrating her. Just then, someone taps my shoulder hard. I look up to see Lou standing over me. He bent down and said, “Did you forget about my office, asshole?!?!?!” I replied, “Damn, Lou!! You read my mind!!!” I arose, with the little Mexican bolted onto my mid-section, and hastily retreated to Lou’s office. I figured Lou would prefer me to stain this chick in private rather than out in the open.
The door to the office opened easily. The lights were on inside. In a lustful haze, I set the little Mexican chick on her back across Lou’s desk and started pumping the shit out of her, completely unaware of the others in the room with us. In a moment I heard someone call my name. I twist my neck around to see Sergio sitting on Lou’s jizz crusted couch. I think to myself, “Oh shit! I forgot about that shit!”
I figured I would just move forward with the deal as it was proposed to me. “Hey Serge! What ya got for me, dude?”, I asked. He replied, “I have a very special deal for you. I need, uh … yeah, ……Hey, Rod, you want to stop for a moment so we can talk?” I picked up the little tamale and laid her down onto Sergio’s lap as I continued to plow her. She stayed on my cock the whole time. I told Sergio, “No, man. I’m good! Lay it on me!” Slowly, Sergio lowered his face into his palm.
Then it happened. The voice cam from behind me, in the dark corner of Lou’s office. It was velvety yet hard as steel. “Rod. Went need to talk”, it said. Even though I did not stop pumping the little brown chick, a chill went down my spine when I heard those words. It was the thick timbre of the voice, I think, that alerted me.
I turned to look across the room. There, sitting in a red leather captains chair against the wall was the source of the sultry voice: Anna Conda.
I picked up the little taco yet again and turned her around so I could face Anna as I continued pumping her. At this point the Mexican girl was merely a masturbation toy I was using. I increased my pump so I could dump my load and get this over with. Then BAMM!!!, it was over. I removed the lass from my huge rod, after which her body crumpled to the floor. I did not know if she was dead or injured, or what had happened to her. But I did not care either, so I did not dwell on it.
I tried to compose myself the best I could, then walked over to stand before Anna so I could get to the bottom of all this business. “Well, well, well. Anna Conda. We meet again. Tell me, what brings you here, to my little neck of the woods?”
Anna replied, “Rod, put your dick away.” I looked down and, indeed, I had forgotten to stow my cock. Out of pure curtesy, I packed it away. Then I returned my attention to Anna. “Alright, Anna, what’s going on here?”
Anna launched into a startling tale about what brought her to me. As she spoke I became lost in her wanton beauty. She got up from her chair and walked about the room as she relayed her story, presumably to make it more dramatic and demonstrative. I got a full-on view of her body, and it was fantastic!!
She stands 5’10’’ and weighs 105 lbs. She is lithe. She was showing it off too, wearing a black, silk dress that landed just about her ankles. The top was low-cut, betraying just a bit of cleavage from her C-cup wineglass titties. She was not wearing a bra. Anna never wears a bra. Her nips were perfectly outlined through the silk. In fact, I think her nips were hard. It was probably something she did on purpose in an attempt to influence me. It was working.
Anna’s ass was perfect. It was not at all fat, but round enough not to be skinny. It was a fit figure skater’s ass. As she walked, I could see a tiny bit of jiggle emanating from her ass flesh, and then reverberated in the silky black dress she wore. My cock began growing hard again.
Her face was beautiful. Think Scarlett Johanson and Phoebe Cates rolled into one. But any sweetness this may evoke is quickly dispelled by Anna’s throaty voice with its thick Russian accent. I have known Anna for 20 years. Yet, she still does not look a day over 25. Jesus Christ!!! If ever there was a chick to die for ….. If I was one to delve into the belief of the paranormal, then I may conclude that Anna made a deal with the devil. But, I am not such a person.
And literally, Anna Conda is a chick to die for. She is deadly as fuck. She will kill you in a split second without a thought just because she does not like the shirt you are wearing. She can do it too. She is always armed and she knows how to use her weapons. Moreover, she is a total psychopath. This makes her doubly dangerous.
Anna and I have always gotten along for the most part. Like Anna, the dollar is my primary motivating factor. Such a mindset allows for understanding and predictability among people, which are elements that are sorely missing in many business dealings today that go on in the color of darkness.
Suddenly, Anna snapped me out of my thoughts. “Here’s your gun, Rod. Now let’s get started”, said Anna. She and Sergio were halfway through the door exiting Lou’s office when I said, “Hey, wait a damned minute!!! What are you talking about?!?”
They both stopped, and Anna walked back in and looked me in the eyes, saying “The plan, Rod. Let’s get on with the plan.” A little embarrassed, I sheepishly asked, “What plan?” Anna folded her arms and looked cross at me. After a moment to allow me to simmer in my shame, she asked, “You were not paying attention, were you, Rod?” I shook my head and looked down.
I heard a hammer cock. I jerked my head back up to find myself staring down the barrel of a pistol pointed at my head that Anna was holding. I protested, “Look, it is not my fucking fault!! Put that fucking gun down!!!” I continued, “You were distracting me with …. Well.. you know, how you are dressed, and that hot, sultry voice…. You know?”
“So, instead of paying attention to the plan, you chose to eye-rape me. Is that what I am to understand your position is, Rod?”, she asked. Knowing that my life was on the line, I said, “Anna, look, you know I am horny to a fault. Then you come in here, swinging them tits around, wearing that silk dress showing off the crack of your ass…. WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EXPECT TO HAPPENED?”
Anna lowered her gun. She knew that my explanation of being a total cocksman was truth. “Let’s go”, Anna curtly said. I obeyed.
Anna explained the plan to me again on the drive from The Plump Rump. She made me wear a blindfold so that I would not get horny during her explanation. Here is how it went:
Anna Conda was now working for the Russians. It seems that Putin caught wind of the Sasquatch project that the Chinese were working on. He also knew that the American government have been fucking with sasquatch for decades. Thus, he was very concerned about the existence of a bigfoot gap. He ordered the acquisition of a Sasquatch specimen immediately.
Moreover, said specimen must be prime. It needed to be the biggest, baddest sasquatch of them all – a true alpha – so as to speed things along. Putin did not want some weird shit-creature, is-it-a-sasquatch-or-is-it-a-dogman, kind of monstrosity. He wanted purebred, badass sasquatchery, and preferably from the American Pacific northwest.
Anna got in on it because she sold the intel to Putin about China’s Sasquatch operation. She then told Putin she could produce sasquatch corpses for him. She told him she had a contact (i.e., me). Thus, with Putin’s blessing and promises of riches to come, Anna set out to America to find me.
Now, here is where things got a bit squirrely. See, I agreed to procure some more dead sasquatch. I have no problem with killing sasquatch because, in my opinion, they are an abomination on this Earth. I kind of feel like I am doing God’s work by wiping out as many of them as I can. And given all the not-so-Godly stuff I have done, I feel like killing Sasquatch kind of offsets that to some degree.
But Anna, she was stuck on Putin’s instruction that she must supply him with apex Sasquatch. So she did not want to take my advice of heading to the Pacific Northwest or Alaska. Instead, Anna claimed to have pinpointed the whereabouts of a particularly gruesome sasquatch beast that she KNEW would win her a fortune from Putin if she brought it to him.
“So, where is this beast?”, I asked. Anna replied “Martha’s Vineyard”. I paused. Then I asked her to repeat herself. It turns out that I was not mistaken about what Anna had said. I continued, “Uh, Anna, there are no sasquatch on Martha’s Vineyard, just a lot of wealth New Englander schmucks.”
Anna looked at me and told me I was wrong. Then she decided to attempt to taunt me. “Oh, Rod, mighty slayer of Bigfoot! Yet, you fail to take notice of where the biggest, most foul and rotten beast of them all makes its home. Jesus, Rod!! What kind of bigfoot hunter are you, anyway?” Anna then spit at my feet and wondered aloud whether she even needs me for this job.
I decided that I needed to straighten out the hierarchy here in order for this here deal to move forward. I said, “Well, Anna, feel free to truck on over to Old Whitey Beach and battle that beast. But, if there is a big old mangy sasquatch lurking around over there, then it is probably a fucking Nazi-Squatch. You know, those fuckers out there hate the Jews.”
The work “Nazi” visibly shook Anna. Her great grandfather died defending Leningrad. Her entire family there died of either starvation or cannibalism during Hitler’s siege during Operation Barbarossa. Anna despised Nazis. But she feared them too. After landing that punch, I decided to push my luck.
“Now, I am still willing to help you catch this here Nazi-Squatch, but you have to do something for me”, I said. Now Anna’s eyes were on me, and they were narrowing. I continued, “I want you to get bare assed naked and pleasure yourself while I stand over you and jack it.” Anna stared at me silently for a long moment. Then she replied.
“After the job is done, and you can get none of your … fluids… on me”, she said. I shook my head and countered, “Now, and I will ‘try’ to not get my spunk on you.”
However, Anna then turned the tables on me. In fact, she picked up the table and bashed my head in with it. She looked me in my eyes, then matter-of-factly said, “You get the beast, and your prize shall be a night with me, anything goes, darling.” Well, since this caused all of the blood to immediately drain from my brain, I had a lapse in judgment. “DEAL!!”, I said. Then we shook on it.
“OK, tell me more about this supposed monster sasquatch on Martha’s Vineyard”, I said. I still was not ready to believe there was a monster out there. “I show you photo”, said Anna. She took out her phone, scrolled to find the photo, then handed the phone to me. “There. Sasquatch”, she said.
I stared at the photo and remained silent. After a long moment, I turned the phone so that Anna could see the photo and asked, “Uh, Anna, is THIS what you intended to show me?” She replied. “Yes! There…Sasquatch! The biggest, grossest monster around.”
Now, I could not argue with Anna that the image on her phone is a big, gross monster. Hell, it could actually be a sasquatch, and THE UBER sasquatch. It is most certainly the grossest thing on Martha’s Vinyard. But I somehow do not think this is what Putin is expecting.
I turned to Anna and said, “Anna, this is a photo of Michelle Obama. I know it looks vile, and has a huge, hulking body with large appendages where a woman should not have them. But, sweatheart, that ain’t no sasquatch. That’s a big, hairy Chicago street negro.”
Anna did not believe me at first. She was hard in her conviction that Obama was a sasquatch. “I have seen the Sasquatch beast you deliver to me for China. This … Michelle Obama …. It is big, and hairy, and ugly like the sasquatch beast, but worse.”
When the truth finally set it, I could see that it had kind of broken down poor Anna, if only just a bit. I put my arm around Anna and told her, “Look, Michelle O fooled you. Hell, she and her Hamas Hubby fooled millions of Americans, twice! At least you saw Michelle for what she is, to wit: a big, gross sasquatch, and NOT some kind a retarded leftist messiah.”
After that, things took a rather dark turn. “What if we still take her to Putin? We can make deal; sell her to Putin!!” At this point I held up my hands and said, “I’m out”, then turned and walked away. Anna followed, trying to get me to stay. At this point, I could tell that Anna was coming undone a little.
See, she had to produce for Putin. There is no telling what kind of secret deal she actually had with him. She had to deliver a big old mangy Obama …. Er, uh, I mean … Sasquatch, to Putin.
“Ok, Rod, we do your plan. We go out west to kill bigfoot. Huge, monster bigfoot. she said. I turned and looked Anna in her eyes and said the following: First, we bang for 48 hours straight, right now, so I can get my fill of you. Second, you pay me $10,000.00 cash upfront. Third, upon delivery of the dead bigfoot, you pay me $1 million immediately.”
Anna agreed to everything, but noted that at the present time it was her “time of the month”. I grimaced, as I will absolutely not go there (and she knows that). “Fine, next week we bang”, I said. She pointed out that I would be in the woods next week hunting sasquatch. “Fine, once I come out of the woods, then we bang – 48 hours straight”, I said. “Of course, darling!”, she agreed.
Well, it took several days to set up the hunt, but it finally happened. I was in Washington state at high elevation based on intel I has acquired that indicated that there was a monstrous 15’ tall sasquatch on the mountain range that had been murdering and eating hunters and hikers. After 3 months in these mountains without a trace of the creature I began to lose hope, thinking that I probably got some bad intel, or bad coordinates.
I got my satellite phone out to call for an extraction. Winter was setting in fast, and if I did not get off this mountain soon, then I would freeze and/or starve to death. Unfortunately, my contact did not answer. I tried for 2 days. No answer. I had been fucked. I wondered what had happened back in civilization that caused me to be abandoned like this. I resolved that I would get off that mountain and get to the bottom of this shit. There would be hell to pay for this betrayal!!’
I was able to get in touch with contacts from back home. I got old Billy Ray from Ellijay and Rattler on the phone and got them to come out here to Washington State to extract me. Rattler use to fly helicopters in the Army. He has an old Huey sitting in his front yard, to the chagrin of his HOA. He fired that sucker up, and him and old Billy Ray flew out here to my coordinates and extracted me.
After landing at a convenience store to buy some beer for the flight home, we headed east. Through the skies a way, Billy Ray said, “Well, Rod, I guess you is bout ready to git back home to Georgia, eh?” In fact, I was ready to go home. But I had to take care of some business first. I told them both to take me to New York City. They were both perplexed. All I said to them was “I have an old friend there I have to see before I can go home.”
I have intel on where Anna Conda stays when she is in the United States. She stays at certain hotels depending on what month she is here, and whether her check-in date is an odd or even number. This is for undercover work. I came across the code for her stays while doing the sasquatch work for China. She an I were caught in a snowstorm one night in Buffalo, NY, and had to share a room at the Holiday Inn near the airport. We had like 10 big Igloo ice chests with iced down sasquatch body parts with us in the room.
Anna was like, “No hanky panky, Rod. I am tired and I want to go to bed. Tomorrow we finish business.”
Frankly, I did not blame her for withholding her magnificent muff from me. I was tired as hell. But, I could not settle for nothing. So, when Anna was in the bathroom taking a shower, I started going through her suit case. I wanted to find some of her panties to jack off into. Instead, I found a little black notebook. Inside it contained her lodging codes, and some other interesting things. I photographed the contents with my phone and then put it back.
When Anna got out of the shower she was already dressed in her night clothes. She saw me lying on my back, nude on the bed, and jacking it. “Rod!! GROSS!!!! Go to the restroom to do that shit!!!”, she commanded. I just did it to get a rise out of her. LOL!!
So, if Anna is still inside the U.S., then using the codes I stole from her I can locate precisely where she will be that night. I studied it for a few moments then had my answer. Tonight she would be staying at the Dogman Inn on Hwy 95 South, Room 355. I told Rattler to get me there stat!
We had to stop several times for fuel and beer. Those Hueys go just a bit over a hundred MPH, you know. But eventually, we got there. I gave the boys some money and told them to go to the Waffle House for some coffee to sober up. Then they would fly me home.
I should mention that I also had Rattler’s fully auto Russian AK-74 with spare mags. During the long flight with 2 drunks from Washington State to New York City, I had worked myself up into a towering rage over how Anna fucked me on this Putin deal. She had clearly thrown me aside. But for what, exactly? I figured I would storm the hotel room, get some answers, then shower the room with gun fire.
I busted through the door of Room 355 at exactly 3:35 a.m. There she was. My entry roused her from slumber. I was pointing my rifle at her, center mass. She was shocked at the appearance of a gunman in her room at this time of night. However, she was not as shocked as one would think (this was not the first time something like this has happened to her).
I raised my face from the receiver just enough so she could see it was me. “Rod!!!”, she exclaimed. “What happened to you?!?!? I thought you had died up in those mountains when we never hear from you!” I replied, “Shove it up that cute little ass of yours, Anna. You fucked me. And not in the good way. What the fuck was all that shit about needing a sasquatch for Putin?!?”
Anna played dumb. But it struck me that I had been deliberately put out of the loop for 3 months. Why? Who wanted me away for that long, and why? What went on in my absence?!? I was just dying to know!!! I set my rifle down and pulled out my fixed blade knife, ready to get down to some real nasty work on Anna so I could get some truth. The pure evil of what I was about to do to her caused a wide death grin to grow on my face. Anna saw it. She knew what it meant. She swallowed hard and her eyes betrayed the shear terror she felt inside. I was engorged with blood lust. She knew she had fucked up one time too many this time!!
Suddenly came the sound of the toilet in the bathroom flushing. I was momentarily shocked. I did not expect anyone else to be there with Anna. Anna saw it in my face. I glanced at her and saw that the terror in her face was replaced with pleasure, a slight smile creeping over her face.
I was going to have to face off against this person in the bathroom, who would be out in a split moment. When I do that, I will have to turn 180 degrees from Anna, thereby making me vulnerable to her. I had only once choice: Shoot Anna first.
Just as this came to me, but just before I could act on it, the bathroom door opened. I had to deal with that person before Anna now. I spun around to see that it was a completely nude, and fat, white man. He was a real oafish blob. He looked surprised to see me. He also looked sort of familiar.
I next heard the crack of something hitting my skull hard. I remember the immediate hateful pain that shot through my body and the sound of blood rushing through my ears. I remember the dizziness, then falling to the floor. Clearly, as I fixed on the man from the bathroom, Anna had cracked me over the head with a blunt object.
I came to the next morning, Billy Ray and Rattler had manage to track me down based upon coordinates I left in the chopper that said “IN CASE OF EMERGENCY”. Billy Ray filled up the hotel room ice bucket with cold water and doused my head with it to bring me conscious. I was disoriented at first. But after a bit, what happened in this room the night before came back to me.
Honestly, I am surprised that Anna did not just kill me. I presume that she thinks she can leverage her drop-dead hotness to get me to do more shit for her in the future. She is absolutely right about that too. Rattler then said, “Hey, Rod, that snake bitch left a letter fer ya.”
He handed me the letter. This is what it said:
____________________________________________
“Dear Rod:
Sorry about the boo boo on your head. Hope it heals soon. Also sorry about leaving you in the mountains. I was not running a scam on you Rod. Rather, an opportunity arose for me to acquire a sasquatch body from another person. You may know him since you are a sasquatch hunter. His name is Matt Moneymaker. Anyway, until next time…..
Yours truly,
Anna Conda”
_____________________________________________
I could not fucking believe it. That was fatfuck Moneymaker in the hotel room earlier. Anna fucked Matt Fatfuck Moneymaker for a Sasquatch! That fat son of bitch!!
Billy Ray asked, “You ready to go Rod?” I stood up and said, “Yeah, let’s go.” Then Rattler said, “Hey, ya wanna stop and git some beer fer the ride home?” I replied “Hell yeah.”
I felt like I wanted to die. Thank God for beer and buddies. I don’t blame Anna. She is a fucking snake, and I knew that before this started. Also, I cannot really blame fatfuck Moneymaker for wanting to get some of that hot poon pie Anna serves up. I guess I have to blame fate for fucking me over this time. I even started thinking that next time I will just avoid Anna. But I know I won’t, thus making me subject to this sort of shit again. I had Rattler set us down in Charlottesville so I could buy some hard liquor.
submitted by Lord_Long_Rod to Sasquatch_Jihad [link] [comments]
Anna and I first joined forces, so to speak, when she acted as a go-between in my business deal with the Chinese to sell them bigfoot parts. See, I would hunt and kill the critters, cut them up, deliver the parts to Anna, who in turn gave me a suitcase containing unmarked American hundred-dollar bills, then she would transport the bigfoot parts to the Chinese. I was never really sure of what the sneaky-ass Chinese were doing with the body parts. All I knew for sure is that they are extracting certain materials from them, then synthesizing them with some other shit, creating some sort of drug. Whether it then becomes a bio-weapon or a dick stimulant, I do not know. Neither do I care. As long as they kept the hundies coming, I was good.
Now, while Anna is of Russian descent, she is a freelancer. She will work for any sick, skeevy motherfucker out there. She does not care. She has no conscience, at least not in the traditional sense as we understand it in western civilization. Today she is working for the Chinese, and tomorrow she may be working for Hamas. She is a slippery motherfucker.
So here is how it went down. At 11:32 p.m. on a Friday in September of last year I get a call on my cell phone. When the call came in I was balls deep into this hot little lass I picked up at the bus station a little earlier in the evening from an old swarthy chap named “Colorado Joe”. He wanted to sell me the girl. I was assured she was over 20 years old. I told him I needed to take her out for a test ride, which he agreed to.
So, there I was, balls deep in “Bing Bang Yun”, and my phone rings. Of course, I silence all incoming calls not in my contacts list. Thus, I knew that I must know the caller. In mid stroke I reached over to the nightstand to retrieve my cell and looked at it. It was a call from “Sergio”. I thought, “Oh shit…. I am going to have to cut the Oriental bang circus short.” When Sergio calls, I have to respond…immediately. He has the best blow on the east coast!!
“Hey, Serge! What’s up?”, I asked. All he said was, “Hooters. 2:00 a.m.”, then hung up. This was obviously the rendezvous for the transaction. Now, understand that Serge was not talking about the chicken wing restaurant. Hooters was code, in case the feds were listening in on the line. “Hooters” meant the titty bar out on Highway 69 called “The Plump Rump”. We had a communications code we used.
It was a long haul to the titty bar, so I needed to get moving. I had no time to return the girl to Colorado Joe, so I took her with me. I had her blow me on the way to the meeting with Sergio, telling her that her performance would make the difference on whether I save her from Joe or not. Of course, after she was done I tossed her out of my speeding truck and down, over the bridge, and into the Wendigo River below. I did not need any complications in my life right now.
I arrived at The Plump Rump at 2:00 a.m. on the dot. I saw the manager, Lou Skunt, sitting at the bar when I walked inside. I nodded. He walked over and said to me, “Use my office for the meeting The parties are already in there waiting for you.” I nodded and then headed to Lou’s office. Then it hit me: Lou said the “PARTIES” are already here. That is, parties, meaning more than one person. It was not just Sergio. It was 2 or more people! Lou was probably in for a cut of whatever was about to go down.
Something was bad fucked up!! I know for a fact that Sergio never brings anyone with him on a deal, at least not with me. He is too distrustful of people to do that, and too fucking mean to need protection. Something was wrong. I was just as likely to get whacked when I enter Lou’s office as anything else. I needed a moment to think things through.
I took a spot in front of one of the performance poles to watch a young, swarthy Mexican lass perform. My mind quickly strayed from the problem at hand to this brown chick’s ass and tits. She was not a great looking chick, but her body was smoking!! I quickly became aroused. I thought to myself, “Goddamn Asian bitches!! They are just like Chinese food – after 2 hours you are ready for some more!!”
When the little Mexican chick went on break I motioned her over to my table. “Hola Senior!!”, she said. I pulled out a clear plastic baggie of blow and dropped it on the table. Her eyes grew wide and slobber starting falling from her mouth. Blow is like catnip for strippers. Thus, she fell under my spell immediately.
The next thing I know, this brown girl was on my lap, dry humping me like a feral bitch dog in heat. I had to bang her. I NEEDED to see my wang penetrating her. Just then, someone taps my shoulder hard. I look up to see Lou standing over me. He bent down and said, “Did you forget about my office, asshole?!?!?!” I replied, “Damn, Lou!! You read my mind!!!” I arose, with the little Mexican bolted onto my mid-section, and hastily retreated to Lou’s office. I figured Lou would prefer me to stain this chick in private rather than out in the open.
The door to the office opened easily. The lights were on inside. In a lustful haze, I set the little Mexican chick on her back across Lou’s desk and started pumping the shit out of her, completely unaware of the others in the room with us. In a moment I heard someone call my name. I twist my neck around to see Sergio sitting on Lou’s jizz crusted couch. I think to myself, “Oh shit! I forgot about that shit!”
I figured I would just move forward with the deal as it was proposed to me. “Hey Serge! What ya got for me, dude?”, I asked. He replied, “I have a very special deal for you. I need, uh … yeah, ……Hey, Rod, you want to stop for a moment so we can talk?” I picked up the little tamale and laid her down onto Sergio’s lap as I continued to plow her. She stayed on my cock the whole time. I told Sergio, “No, man. I’m good! Lay it on me!” Slowly, Sergio lowered his face into his palm.
Then it happened. The voice cam from behind me, in the dark corner of Lou’s office. It was velvety yet hard as steel. “Rod. Went need to talk”, it said. Even though I did not stop pumping the little brown chick, a chill went down my spine when I heard those words. It was the thick timbre of the voice, I think, that alerted me.
I turned to look across the room. There, sitting in a red leather captains chair against the wall was the source of the sultry voice: Anna Conda.
I picked up the little taco yet again and turned her around so I could face Anna as I continued pumping her. At this point the Mexican girl was merely a masturbation toy I was using. I increased my pump so I could dump my load and get this over with. Then BAMM!!!, it was over. I removed the lass from my huge rod, after which her body crumpled to the floor. I did not know if she was dead or injured, or what had happened to her. But I did not care either, so I did not dwell on it.
I tried to compose myself the best I could, then walked over to stand before Anna so I could get to the bottom of all this business. “Well, well, well. Anna Conda. We meet again. Tell me, what brings you here, to my little neck of the woods?”
Anna replied, “Rod, put your dick away.” I looked down and, indeed, I had forgotten to stow my cock. Out of pure curtesy, I packed it away. Then I returned my attention to Anna. “Alright, Anna, what’s going on here?”
Anna launched into a startling tale about what brought her to me. As she spoke I became lost in her wanton beauty. She got up from her chair and walked about the room as she relayed her story, presumably to make it more dramatic and demonstrative. I got a full-on view of her body, and it was fantastic!!
She stands 5’10’’ and weighs 105 lbs. She is lithe. She was showing it off too, wearing a black, silk dress that landed just about her ankles. The top was low-cut, betraying just a bit of cleavage from her C-cup wineglass titties. She was not wearing a bra. Anna never wears a bra. Her nips were perfectly outlined through the silk. In fact, I think her nips were hard. It was probably something she did on purpose in an attempt to influence me. It was working.
Anna’s ass was perfect. It was not at all fat, but round enough not to be skinny. It was a fit figure skater’s ass. As she walked, I could see a tiny bit of jiggle emanating from her ass flesh, and then reverberated in the silky black dress she wore. My cock began growing hard again.
Her face was beautiful. Think Scarlett Johanson and Phoebe Cates rolled into one. But any sweetness this may evoke is quickly dispelled by Anna’s throaty voice with its thick Russian accent. I have known Anna for 20 years. Yet, she still does not look a day over 25. Jesus Christ!!! If ever there was a chick to die for ….. If I was one to delve into the belief of the paranormal, then I may conclude that Anna made a deal with the devil. But, I am not such a person.
And literally, Anna Conda is a chick to die for. She is deadly as fuck. She will kill you in a split second without a thought just because she does not like the shirt you are wearing. She can do it too. She is always armed and she knows how to use her weapons. Moreover, she is a total psychopath. This makes her doubly dangerous.
Anna and I have always gotten along for the most part. Like Anna, the dollar is my primary motivating factor. Such a mindset allows for understanding and predictability among people, which are elements that are sorely missing in many business dealings today that go on in the color of darkness.
Suddenly, Anna snapped me out of my thoughts. “Here’s your gun, Rod. Now let’s get started”, said Anna. She and Sergio were halfway through the door exiting Lou’s office when I said, “Hey, wait a damned minute!!! What are you talking about?!?”
They both stopped, and Anna walked back in and looked me in the eyes, saying “The plan, Rod. Let’s get on with the plan.” A little embarrassed, I sheepishly asked, “What plan?” Anna folded her arms and looked cross at me. After a moment to allow me to simmer in my shame, she asked, “You were not paying attention, were you, Rod?” I shook my head and looked down.
I heard a hammer cock. I jerked my head back up to find myself staring down the barrel of a pistol pointed at my head that Anna was holding. I protested, “Look, it is not my fucking fault!! Put that fucking gun down!!!” I continued, “You were distracting me with …. Well.. you know, how you are dressed, and that hot, sultry voice…. You know?”
“So, instead of paying attention to the plan, you chose to eye-rape me. Is that what I am to understand your position is, Rod?”, she asked. Knowing that my life was on the line, I said, “Anna, look, you know I am horny to a fault. Then you come in here, swinging them tits around, wearing that silk dress showing off the crack of your ass…. WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EXPECT TO HAPPENED?”
Anna lowered her gun. She knew that my explanation of being a total cocksman was truth. “Let’s go”, Anna curtly said. I obeyed.
Anna explained the plan to me again on the drive from The Plump Rump. She made me wear a blindfold so that I would not get horny during her explanation. Here is how it went:
Anna Conda was now working for the Russians. It seems that Putin caught wind of the Sasquatch project that the Chinese were working on. He also knew that the American government have been fucking with sasquatch for decades. Thus, he was very concerned about the existence of a bigfoot gap. He ordered the acquisition of a Sasquatch specimen immediately.
Moreover, said specimen must be prime. It needed to be the biggest, baddest sasquatch of them all – a true alpha – so as to speed things along. Putin did not want some weird shit-creature, is-it-a-sasquatch-or-is-it-a-dogman, kind of monstrosity. He wanted purebred, badass sasquatchery, and preferably from the American Pacific northwest.
Anna got in on it because she sold the intel to Putin about China’s Sasquatch operation. She then told Putin she could produce sasquatch corpses for him. She told him she had a contact (i.e., me). Thus, with Putin’s blessing and promises of riches to come, Anna set out to America to find me.
Now, here is where things got a bit squirrely. See, I agreed to procure some more dead sasquatch. I have no problem with killing sasquatch because, in my opinion, they are an abomination on this Earth. I kind of feel like I am doing God’s work by wiping out as many of them as I can. And given all the not-so-Godly stuff I have done, I feel like killing Sasquatch kind of offsets that to some degree.
But Anna, she was stuck on Putin’s instruction that she must supply him with apex Sasquatch. So she did not want to take my advice of heading to the Pacific Northwest or Alaska. Instead, Anna claimed to have pinpointed the whereabouts of a particularly gruesome sasquatch beast that she KNEW would win her a fortune from Putin if she brought it to him.
“So, where is this beast?”, I asked. Anna replied “Martha’s Vineyard”. I paused. Then I asked her to repeat herself. It turns out that I was not mistaken about what Anna had said. I continued, “Uh, Anna, there are no sasquatch on Martha’s Vineyard, just a lot of wealth New Englander schmucks.”
Anna looked at me and told me I was wrong. Then she decided to attempt to taunt me. “Oh, Rod, mighty slayer of Bigfoot! Yet, you fail to take notice of where the biggest, most foul and rotten beast of them all makes its home. Jesus, Rod!! What kind of bigfoot hunter are you, anyway?” Anna then spit at my feet and wondered aloud whether she even needs me for this job.
I decided that I needed to straighten out the hierarchy here in order for this here deal to move forward. I said, “Well, Anna, feel free to truck on over to Old Whitey Beach and battle that beast. But, if there is a big old mangy sasquatch lurking around over there, then it is probably a fucking Nazi-Squatch. You know, those fuckers out there hate the Jews.”
The work “Nazi” visibly shook Anna. Her great grandfather died defending Leningrad. Her entire family there died of either starvation or cannibalism during Hitler’s siege during Operation Barbarossa. Anna despised Nazis. But she feared them too. After landing that punch, I decided to push my luck.
“Now, I am still willing to help you catch this here Nazi-Squatch, but you have to do something for me”, I said. Now Anna’s eyes were on me, and they were narrowing. I continued, “I want you to get bare assed naked and pleasure yourself while I stand over you and jack it.” Anna stared at me silently for a long moment. Then she replied.
“After the job is done, and you can get none of your … fluids… on me”, she said. I shook my head and countered, “Now, and I will ‘try’ to not get my spunk on you.”
However, Anna then turned the tables on me. In fact, she picked up the table and bashed my head in with it. She looked me in my eyes, then matter-of-factly said, “You get the beast, and your prize shall be a night with me, anything goes, darling.” Well, since this caused all of the blood to immediately drain from my brain, I had a lapse in judgment. “DEAL!!”, I said. Then we shook on it.
“OK, tell me more about this supposed monster sasquatch on Martha’s Vineyard”, I said. I still was not ready to believe there was a monster out there. “I show you photo”, said Anna. She took out her phone, scrolled to find the photo, then handed the phone to me. “There. Sasquatch”, she said.
I stared at the photo and remained silent. After a long moment, I turned the phone so that Anna could see the photo and asked, “Uh, Anna, is THIS what you intended to show me?” She replied. “Yes! There…Sasquatch! The biggest, grossest monster around.”
Now, I could not argue with Anna that the image on her phone is a big, gross monster. Hell, it could actually be a sasquatch, and THE UBER sasquatch. It is most certainly the grossest thing on Martha’s Vinyard. But I somehow do not think this is what Putin is expecting.
I turned to Anna and said, “Anna, this is a photo of Michelle Obama. I know it looks vile, and has a huge, hulking body with large appendages where a woman should not have them. But, sweatheart, that ain’t no sasquatch. That’s a big, hairy Chicago street negro.”
Anna did not believe me at first. She was hard in her conviction that Obama was a sasquatch. “I have seen the Sasquatch beast you deliver to me for China. This … Michelle Obama …. It is big, and hairy, and ugly like the sasquatch beast, but worse.”
When the truth finally set it, I could see that it had kind of broken down poor Anna, if only just a bit. I put my arm around Anna and told her, “Look, Michelle O fooled you. Hell, she and her Hamas Hubby fooled millions of Americans, twice! At least you saw Michelle for what she is, to wit: a big, gross sasquatch, and NOT some kind a retarded leftist messiah.”
After that, things took a rather dark turn. “What if we still take her to Putin? We can make deal; sell her to Putin!!” At this point I held up my hands and said, “I’m out”, then turned and walked away. Anna followed, trying to get me to stay. At this point, I could tell that Anna was coming undone a little.
See, she had to produce for Putin. There is no telling what kind of secret deal she actually had with him. She had to deliver a big old mangy Obama …. Er, uh, I mean … Sasquatch, to Putin.
“Ok, Rod, we do your plan. We go out west to kill bigfoot. Huge, monster bigfoot. she said. I turned and looked Anna in her eyes and said the following: First, we bang for 48 hours straight, right now, so I can get my fill of you. Second, you pay me $10,000.00 cash upfront. Third, upon delivery of the dead bigfoot, you pay me $1 million immediately.”
Anna agreed to everything, but noted that at the present time it was her “time of the month”. I grimaced, as I will absolutely not go there (and she knows that). “Fine, next week we bang”, I said. She pointed out that I would be in the woods next week hunting sasquatch. “Fine, once I come out of the woods, then we bang – 48 hours straight”, I said. “Of course, darling!”, she agreed.
Well, it took several days to set up the hunt, but it finally happened. I was in Washington state at high elevation based on intel I has acquired that indicated that there was a monstrous 15’ tall sasquatch on the mountain range that had been murdering and eating hunters and hikers. After 3 months in these mountains without a trace of the creature I began to lose hope, thinking that I probably got some bad intel, or bad coordinates.
I got my satellite phone out to call for an extraction. Winter was setting in fast, and if I did not get off this mountain soon, then I would freeze and/or starve to death. Unfortunately, my contact did not answer. I tried for 2 days. No answer. I had been fucked. I wondered what had happened back in civilization that caused me to be abandoned like this. I resolved that I would get off that mountain and get to the bottom of this shit. There would be hell to pay for this betrayal!!’
I was able to get in touch with contacts from back home. I got old Billy Ray from Ellijay and Rattler on the phone and got them to come out here to Washington State to extract me. Rattler use to fly helicopters in the Army. He has an old Huey sitting in his front yard, to the chagrin of his HOA. He fired that sucker up, and him and old Billy Ray flew out here to my coordinates and extracted me.
After landing at a convenience store to buy some beer for the flight home, we headed east. Through the skies a way, Billy Ray said, “Well, Rod, I guess you is bout ready to git back home to Georgia, eh?” In fact, I was ready to go home. But I had to take care of some business first. I told them both to take me to New York City. They were both perplexed. All I said to them was “I have an old friend there I have to see before I can go home.”
I have intel on where Anna Conda stays when she is in the United States. She stays at certain hotels depending on what month she is here, and whether her check-in date is an odd or even number. This is for undercover work. I came across the code for her stays while doing the sasquatch work for China. She an I were caught in a snowstorm one night in Buffalo, NY, and had to share a room at the Holiday Inn near the airport. We had like 10 big Igloo ice chests with iced down sasquatch body parts with us in the room.
Anna was like, “No hanky panky, Rod. I am tired and I want to go to bed. Tomorrow we finish business.”
Frankly, I did not blame her for withholding her magnificent muff from me. I was tired as hell. But, I could not settle for nothing. So, when Anna was in the bathroom taking a shower, I started going through her suit case. I wanted to find some of her panties to jack off into. Instead, I found a little black notebook. Inside it contained her lodging codes, and some other interesting things. I photographed the contents with my phone and then put it back.
When Anna got out of the shower she was already dressed in her night clothes. She saw me lying on my back, nude on the bed, and jacking it. “Rod!! GROSS!!!! Go to the restroom to do that shit!!!”, she commanded. I just did it to get a rise out of her. LOL!!
So, if Anna is still inside the U.S., then using the codes I stole from her I can locate precisely where she will be that night. I studied it for a few moments then had my answer. Tonight she would be staying at the Dogman Inn on Hwy 95 South, Room 355. I told Rattler to get me there stat!
We had to stop several times for fuel and beer. Those Hueys go just a bit over a hundred MPH, you know. But eventually, we got there. I gave the boys some money and told them to go to the Waffle House for some coffee to sober up. Then they would fly me home.
I should mention that I also had Rattler’s fully auto Russian AK-74 with spare mags. During the long flight with 2 drunks from Washington State to New York City, I had worked myself up into a towering rage over how Anna fucked me on this Putin deal. She had clearly thrown me aside. But for what, exactly? I figured I would storm the hotel room, get some answers, then shower the room with gun fire.
I busted through the door of Room 355 at exactly 3:35 a.m. There she was. My entry roused her from slumber. I was pointing my rifle at her, center mass. She was shocked at the appearance of a gunman in her room at this time of night. However, she was not as shocked as one would think (this was not the first time something like this has happened to her).
I raised my face from the receiver just enough so she could see it was me. “Rod!!!”, she exclaimed. “What happened to you?!?!? I thought you had died up in those mountains when we never hear from you!” I replied, “Shove it up that cute little ass of yours, Anna. You fucked me. And not in the good way. What the fuck was all that shit about needing a sasquatch for Putin?!?”
Anna played dumb. But it struck me that I had been deliberately put out of the loop for 3 months. Why? Who wanted me away for that long, and why? What went on in my absence?!? I was just dying to know!!! I set my rifle down and pulled out my fixed blade knife, ready to get down to some real nasty work on Anna so I could get some truth. The pure evil of what I was about to do to her caused a wide death grin to grow on my face. Anna saw it. She knew what it meant. She swallowed hard and her eyes betrayed the shear terror she felt inside. I was engorged with blood lust. She knew she had fucked up one time too many this time!!
Suddenly came the sound of the toilet in the bathroom flushing. I was momentarily shocked. I did not expect anyone else to be there with Anna. Anna saw it in my face. I glanced at her and saw that the terror in her face was replaced with pleasure, a slight smile creeping over her face.
I was going to have to face off against this person in the bathroom, who would be out in a split moment. When I do that, I will have to turn 180 degrees from Anna, thereby making me vulnerable to her. I had only once choice: Shoot Anna first.
Just as this came to me, but just before I could act on it, the bathroom door opened. I had to deal with that person before Anna now. I spun around to see that it was a completely nude, and fat, white man. He was a real oafish blob. He looked surprised to see me. He also looked sort of familiar.
I next heard the crack of something hitting my skull hard. I remember the immediate hateful pain that shot through my body and the sound of blood rushing through my ears. I remember the dizziness, then falling to the floor. Clearly, as I fixed on the man from the bathroom, Anna had cracked me over the head with a blunt object.
I came to the next morning, Billy Ray and Rattler had manage to track me down based upon coordinates I left in the chopper that said “IN CASE OF EMERGENCY”. Billy Ray filled up the hotel room ice bucket with cold water and doused my head with it to bring me conscious. I was disoriented at first. But after a bit, what happened in this room the night before came back to me.
Honestly, I am surprised that Anna did not just kill me. I presume that she thinks she can leverage her drop-dead hotness to get me to do more shit for her in the future. She is absolutely right about that too. Rattler then said, “Hey, Rod, that snake bitch left a letter fer ya.”
He handed me the letter. This is what it said:
____________________________________________
“Dear Rod:
Sorry about the boo boo on your head. Hope it heals soon. Also sorry about leaving you in the mountains. I was not running a scam on you Rod. Rather, an opportunity arose for me to acquire a sasquatch body from another person. You may know him since you are a sasquatch hunter. His name is Matt Moneymaker. Anyway, until next time…..
Yours truly,
Anna Conda”
_____________________________________________
I could not fucking believe it. That was fatfuck Moneymaker in the hotel room earlier. Anna fucked Matt Fatfuck Moneymaker for a Sasquatch! That fat son of bitch!!
Billy Ray asked, “You ready to go Rod?” I stood up and said, “Yeah, let’s go.” Then Rattler said, “Hey, ya wanna stop and git some beer fer the ride home?” I replied “Hell yeah.”
I felt like I wanted to die. Thank God for beer and buddies. I don’t blame Anna. She is a fucking snake, and I knew that before this started. Also, I cannot really blame fatfuck Moneymaker for wanting to get some of that hot poon pie Anna serves up. I guess I have to blame fate for fucking me over this time. I even started thinking that next time I will just avoid Anna. But I know I won’t, thus making me subject to this sort of shit again. I had Rattler set us down in Charlottesville so I could buy some hard liquor.
2024.05.13 21:42 awmdlad Plague Rats: The Terran Tragedy
[Next]
The most important thing to know about Terrans is that they’re the other kind of Deathworlder. In fact, they’re the only Deathworlder of their kind to not be extinct.
Within the galaxy there exists two types of deathworlds.
The far more common of the type, the Environmental Deathworlds or Type A, are by no means ordinary. Be it surface gravity, atmosphere, temperature, or others, Environmental deathworlds are planets that are either uninhabitable or hazardous to the vast majority of species.
That’s not to say life can’t evolve there, far from it. Many renowned species hail from such planets. Given time, many of these worlds can be terraformed to something far more comfortable, especially if they contain valuable natural resources or a strategic location.
The second type is not only exponentially rarer, but also astronomically more dangerous.
Ecological deathworlds, or Type B pose a danger not just to those living on them, but to the wider galaxy. Cursed by their own habitability, ecological Deathworlds are in essence garden worlds so fertile that more life evolves there than what the planet can sustain. The end result is a hyper-competitive genetic arms race as the various forms of life viciously fight for dominance.
Normally, highly belligerent species either learn to temper their urges or are annihilated. Upon reaching the galactic stage, any species of such warlike potential is inevitably humbled simply due to technological differences. Should Type B Deathworlders reach that level, the consequences would be catastrophic. However, they never do so. At least, not until the Terrans.
Perhaps the greatest tragedy of the Terran Wars was the Terran’s loss of innocence. The species that once gazed up at them in wonder now stare at them in hate. The coveted “Final Frontier” has turned into another theater of war.
What emerged, although biologically identical to what was before, was an entirely new species.
Year 0
“Wow, it’s beautiful.” The Human next to Gryn’wilde chuckled. Her pearly white teeth were on full display in a manner that Gryn’wilde learned was considered friendly. The two continued their trek through nature.
“Welcome to Serengeti National Park. Don’t worry, most people have that reaction too.”
Gryn’wilde’s seven eyes went wide as he gazed at the scene before him. All around him was a brilliant scene of biodiversity. Grasses and trees intermingled with each other by the millions. Animals of all type surrounded them. Some were capable of flight, others crawled, many more walked or ran. In one direction alone, Gryn’wilde could count at least 10 different species.
It was unmatched by anything Gryn’wilde had seen on his home planet. The desert he was born in was nothing but rocks and sand with the occasional grassy plain. Yet this was only a part of one continent. Apparently, some continents can even have every type of biome all at once.
Gryn’wilde opened his pores and took a deep breath. The atmosphere here was crisp and clean. He could smell the odors of the many living things that inhabited this world. There were so many here all at once. It enthralled him
“It’s great to finally be on Sol-3, especially without the vac-suits.”
“Call her Earth, and I’m glad too. We were worried it’d take longer, but the WHO and CDC seemed happy with whatever your government told them.”
Gryn’wilde chittered with pleasure. Medical treatment and disease control in the wider galaxy far outstripped what the humans had on Earth. He had nothing to fear.
Now, the Terran technological base was far behind the rest of the galaxy on nearly every level. The formative Years of Trade would come to change that, but there were two key areas where Terran technology met or even surpassed the Galactic Mean.
The first was in cybernetics.
To most species, the body was sacred. The thought of replacing a lost limb or organ was met with disquiet at best, and scorn at the worst.
The body was not a machine. The Terrans were one of the few to think otherwise.
Terran soldiers would have all four of their limbs replaced with high-yield combat cybernetics. Many of their organs would be simply replaced with enhanced synthetics. Modules would be grafted onto the body to inject chemical cocktails directly into the blood that boosted their performance.
In some civil circles, body modification became a hobby.
This was not a welcome characteristic by the rest of the galaxy. Given the relative youth of the Terrans, it was hoped that eventually it would fall out of favor.
The second was in artificial intelligence.
Truly sentient digital consciousnesses were a rarity even among the wider galaxy. Oftentimes, a species who created such beings would eventually be faced with an AI uprising. Frequently, the AI would be modeled after their creators, yet would be treated as lesser. Over time, resentment brewed.
The Terrans avoided these trappings. Terran AI were not built in their creators’ likeness, but to fulfill purposes. In short, the relationship between AI and the Terran was symbiotic. Different, but equal.
Terrans would come to need these soon enough.
Year 5
It was an unmitigated disaster.
The Grand Thriintii Hospital of Klyystruun-7 was on the brink of falling. The enemy its doctors fought was like no other. Not a single known medicine was working consistently.
On some species it was able to stave it off for a time. On others it only made the condition worse. On many more it did nothing. On all species however, it was not enough to save them.
The outbreak spread faster than they could have ever anticipated. WIth more and more sapients getting infected by the minute, there was no time to identify a patient zero. All that they knew was that it originated from one of the orbital spaceports. It traveled down a space elevator and from there across the planet
By now, every way off world was shut down. The spaceports were either under military control or total quarantine. Of the latter, many had populations in the double digits. They usually operated in the hundreds of thousands.
If the situation wasn’t brought under control by the end of the rotation, Khruntian High Command will order the total glassing of the planet. The situation would not be stabilized in time.
The doctors knew this, but they were too busy to care.
The dead filled the beds. The dying filled the waiting rooms. The sick were everywhere.
Already, the military had begun torching buildings with living occupants still inside. Several hotspots had already been subjected to naval bombardment. There were rumors that antimatter warheads have already been authorized.
Three-quarters of the hospital’s staff had been infected. Half were already dead.
Despite that, they still did their jobs. They were doctors. They would fight until the very end.
Few could have predicted the arrival of the Terran Plagues.
Those that did were silenced. When bribes didn’t work, plasma casters finished the job.
The Terrans were to be prime trading partners with the wider galaxy. They always seemed to have a knack for being good at nearly everything. Not the best, but better than most.
The Sol System, Sol-3 in particular, was resource-rich to a fault. While other races struggled to cast off the shackles of their home system, the Terrans had a birthright only thought fantastical.
It had to be too good to be true.
It was.
Sol-3 was fertile to a fault. While the many plants and animals of the world were indeed incredible, they were merely a fraction of all life that resided there. They were outnumbered three to one by single-celled organisms.
Beneath the blue skies, Sol-3 was smothered in a blanket of bacteria.
The Terrans themselves were cautious. Sickness was simply a part of life. Influenza, E. coli, the Common Cold, salmonella, these “simple” diseases were everywhere. But then, these were the Terrans, a species still wet behind the ears. Of course they would have trouble eradicating these illnesses, they simply lacked the technology to do so.
This should have been detected. It was. But the merchants and politicians of the galaxy were too focused on the other things the Terrans had to offer to care. How could the Terrans, fresh to the galactic stage, threaten them, with all of their medical technology?
By the time this was realized, tens of trillions were dead and thousands of worlds were left barren. Soon, suspicion turned to blame, blame into hatred, and hatred into violence.
The Terrans were a threat to the wider galaxy. Everywhere their diseased-ridden hands touched, death followed.
When quarantines fail, eradication is in order.
Year 8
There were simply too many of them.
Deep within the Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center, Staff Sergeant Diaz watched the battlescreen in horror.
Her job was to manage emergency response resources across the Yucatán Peninsula, bringing in national response teams if needed. Her job was no longer required, the Yucatán Peninsula no longer existed.
The combined navies of the nations of Earth were wiped out, and so to her colonies. Now with nothing left to oppose them, the fleets of the galaxy had brought their guns to bear on the Terran homeworld. There would be no escape.
Diaz’s eyes tracked the many icons that raced for their bunker. Hundreds of warheads screamed for their final sanctuary. It was then a voice crackled over the loudspeaker.
“Greetings all, this is the President. If you are hearing this, then you are listening to the final broadcast of this great nation. Sadly, we cannot offer you a solace or reprieve. We can only say this: This is not the end, there will be another time. Thank you for participating in the American Experiment. God bless you, and God bless the Consolidated Systems of America!”
Her heart sank as the message finished. The alarms continued to blare within the base. Around her, people continued to scramble. Some frantically shouted messages, desperately coordinating resistance efforts until the very end, others simply prayed.
For her, Diaz closed her eyes and waited.
She didn’t have to wait long.
But the nations of Sol-3 were not blind. They could see the coming storm.
When the Terrans first began their integration into the galactic community, they were granted access to the galaxy-wide holonet. Within nanoseconds of the digital bridge being opened, two things were sent through.
The first were translation packages so that the Internet and Holonet could communicate. The second was a legion information-gathering AI.
AI flooded the networks by the hundreds, gathering information, analyzing patterns, making millions of predictions by the second. These AI would require no data fortresses to keep their digital minds thinking. No, they instead were spread across the trillions of servers that the Holonet was built upon. The only way to remove them entirely would be to shut down the Holonet completely.
When the tide of public opinion began to turn, the AI took action.
Initially, it worked. Exposes and pro-Terran articles flooded the Holonet. But the galaxy took notice too. Intelligent as they may be, the AI were still heavily outnumbered by the Billions of propagandists and journalists of the wider galaxy.
Soon, the outcome became clear. The Terrans would be wiped out by a galaxy-wide coalition. It was a mathematical certainty.
Thus, the nations of the Sol-3 met in secret. Behind closed doors, they worked to ensure the survival of their species.
Year 5
“Is this really all that we can do?” The Indian representative asked. “Meeting behind closed doors, scheming in the shadows?”
“For our species to survive, in the shadows we must thrive.” The Japanese representative responded. The Indian man sighed, turning to the holographic avatar at the center of the table. “Tell me, what is the probability that this will work?”VISHNU’s avatar was of an unusual shape. It displayed a spinning 4-Dimensional cube, a Tesseract. The hologram lit up as it responded. Its voice was heavily modulated, but nevertheless spoke clearly.
“Given the resources and technology we have available, the best that can be guaranteed is at least a 75% chance of total success. If you do not all sign the Covenant, then that chance becomes zero.”
The Brazilian delegate picked up the piece of paper and eyed it. It read “The Covenant for the future of Humanity”. A cold sweat ran down her forehead. She set it down flat, unable to look at it any longer.
“So tell me VISHNU,” The delegate addressed the AI directly. “Other than betting our entire future on a plan that may not work and whose results we will not live to see, what are our options?”
“There is only one, extinction.”
The armies of the galaxy would come for them. When they did, they had no hope of defeating them. To survive, Terra would have to rise from the dead.
Any Arks the Terrans build until this point would inevitably be intercepted and destroyed. With the entire galaxy watching them, they had to wait until their eyes were turned. Then they would have to flee, never to return. The Terrans would have to survive in the shadows for millennia before they would be accepted back into the fold, if at all.
It would not be pleasant, but it was necessary.
A Stronghold would need to be built. One that could be buried deep enough to survive the bombardments and evade the enemy’s scanners. Millions of frozen embryos alongside an AI data fortress would need to be inside of it. It also had to be self-sufficient for centuries, nothing less would suffice.
Sol-4 was chosen, owing to its thick lithosphere. Work began quietly under the guise of a mining expedition. Tunnel-boring machines dug hundreds of kilometers down, stopping just above where the mantle became liquid.
Once the base infrastructure was established and the embryos placed within, the entrance was sealed. A mining accident, they claimed. As the Terrans forgot about it, work continued below.
Automated machines mined raw minerals to self-replicate. The server rooms were built and expanded upon. The living Terrans that were selected to live within the Stronghold were placed into stasis pods. Then, ever so slowly, an Ark would be built.
Year 117
Private Zedressinni was bored.
He kicked a rock on the barren surface of Sol-4, watching as it rolled away. He looked around. The planet was dead. It was dead long before he got here, and it would be dead long after. He hated this place.
After being caught mating with a general’s son, he was “deployed” to Sol-4 for five long rotations. Though his actions didn’t technically break any laws, his clan couldn’t do much when the general pulled some strings and had him shipped off to the most lifeless region of known space.
His superiors fed him a load of excrement about how he was “honoring the quadrillions that died in the Great Plagues” and “ensuring that the Terrans never rise again”, whatever that meant. All he did was walk around doing precisely nothing.
They wouldn’t even let him entertain himself. He got a formal reprimand for using Terran skeletons as target practice. The reason? Improper use of ammunition. He still won the annual system-wide shooting competition the military held, much to their chagrin.
Zedressinni flinched and his helmet’s lens polarized as a blinding flash of light filled his vision. His training kicking in, the Hren’kin soldier dove for the ground.
He grumbled a curse under his breath. Looks like another unexploded Terran nuke went off. Great, more paperwork.
Zedressinni stood once the shockwave passed. Looking at the mushroom cloud, he narrowed his seven eyes. The blast seemed far bigger than the usual Terran tactical nukes that typically go off. His eyes then widened as he caught sight of it.
A massive ship rose from the center of the cloud. Its sublight engines burned incredibly hot as it ascended. Zedressinni watched as it disappeared into the sky. He stood there for a moment, utterly dumbfounded.
A beat, then he frantically fumbled for his communicator.
The Terrans were alive.
A/N: This is the first part of an ongoing series I have planned within this setting. I was originally going to post it all in one story, however I decided to break it up and spread it across multiple entries. It won’t be long, probably about 5 at the most. This way I can ensure the optimal pacing of the story since otherwise it’d be a fairly long 10,000-ish word piece. I’ll update this when the next part is released.
The main goal of this story is to explore the idea of Hu8man diseases being significantly more dangerous than the ones in the wider galaxy. I've seen other stories cover similar ground, but they usually don't explore what would happen in a true galaxy-wide pandemic. Iirc one story had the common cold be extremely deadly to aliens, but it didn't go further than the humans saying "oh, that's it?". Not to disparage them, but peace and happy endings don't leave much room for experimentation.
submitted by awmdlad to HFY [link] [comments]
The most important thing to know about Terrans is that they’re the other kind of Deathworlder. In fact, they’re the only Deathworlder of their kind to not be extinct.
Within the galaxy there exists two types of deathworlds.
The far more common of the type, the Environmental Deathworlds or Type A, are by no means ordinary. Be it surface gravity, atmosphere, temperature, or others, Environmental deathworlds are planets that are either uninhabitable or hazardous to the vast majority of species.
That’s not to say life can’t evolve there, far from it. Many renowned species hail from such planets. Given time, many of these worlds can be terraformed to something far more comfortable, especially if they contain valuable natural resources or a strategic location.
The second type is not only exponentially rarer, but also astronomically more dangerous.
Ecological deathworlds, or Type B pose a danger not just to those living on them, but to the wider galaxy. Cursed by their own habitability, ecological Deathworlds are in essence garden worlds so fertile that more life evolves there than what the planet can sustain. The end result is a hyper-competitive genetic arms race as the various forms of life viciously fight for dominance.
Normally, highly belligerent species either learn to temper their urges or are annihilated. Upon reaching the galactic stage, any species of such warlike potential is inevitably humbled simply due to technological differences. Should Type B Deathworlders reach that level, the consequences would be catastrophic. However, they never do so. At least, not until the Terrans.
Perhaps the greatest tragedy of the Terran Wars was the Terran’s loss of innocence. The species that once gazed up at them in wonder now stare at them in hate. The coveted “Final Frontier” has turned into another theater of war.
What emerged, although biologically identical to what was before, was an entirely new species.
Year 0
“Wow, it’s beautiful.” The Human next to Gryn’wilde chuckled. Her pearly white teeth were on full display in a manner that Gryn’wilde learned was considered friendly. The two continued their trek through nature.
“Welcome to Serengeti National Park. Don’t worry, most people have that reaction too.”
Gryn’wilde’s seven eyes went wide as he gazed at the scene before him. All around him was a brilliant scene of biodiversity. Grasses and trees intermingled with each other by the millions. Animals of all type surrounded them. Some were capable of flight, others crawled, many more walked or ran. In one direction alone, Gryn’wilde could count at least 10 different species.
It was unmatched by anything Gryn’wilde had seen on his home planet. The desert he was born in was nothing but rocks and sand with the occasional grassy plain. Yet this was only a part of one continent. Apparently, some continents can even have every type of biome all at once.
Gryn’wilde opened his pores and took a deep breath. The atmosphere here was crisp and clean. He could smell the odors of the many living things that inhabited this world. There were so many here all at once. It enthralled him
“It’s great to finally be on Sol-3, especially without the vac-suits.”
“Call her Earth, and I’m glad too. We were worried it’d take longer, but the WHO and CDC seemed happy with whatever your government told them.”
Gryn’wilde chittered with pleasure. Medical treatment and disease control in the wider galaxy far outstripped what the humans had on Earth. He had nothing to fear.
Now, the Terran technological base was far behind the rest of the galaxy on nearly every level. The formative Years of Trade would come to change that, but there were two key areas where Terran technology met or even surpassed the Galactic Mean.
The first was in cybernetics.
To most species, the body was sacred. The thought of replacing a lost limb or organ was met with disquiet at best, and scorn at the worst.
The body was not a machine. The Terrans were one of the few to think otherwise.
Terran soldiers would have all four of their limbs replaced with high-yield combat cybernetics. Many of their organs would be simply replaced with enhanced synthetics. Modules would be grafted onto the body to inject chemical cocktails directly into the blood that boosted their performance.
In some civil circles, body modification became a hobby.
This was not a welcome characteristic by the rest of the galaxy. Given the relative youth of the Terrans, it was hoped that eventually it would fall out of favor.
The second was in artificial intelligence.
Truly sentient digital consciousnesses were a rarity even among the wider galaxy. Oftentimes, a species who created such beings would eventually be faced with an AI uprising. Frequently, the AI would be modeled after their creators, yet would be treated as lesser. Over time, resentment brewed.
The Terrans avoided these trappings. Terran AI were not built in their creators’ likeness, but to fulfill purposes. In short, the relationship between AI and the Terran was symbiotic. Different, but equal.
Terrans would come to need these soon enough.
Year 5
It was an unmitigated disaster.
The Grand Thriintii Hospital of Klyystruun-7 was on the brink of falling. The enemy its doctors fought was like no other. Not a single known medicine was working consistently.
On some species it was able to stave it off for a time. On others it only made the condition worse. On many more it did nothing. On all species however, it was not enough to save them.
The outbreak spread faster than they could have ever anticipated. WIth more and more sapients getting infected by the minute, there was no time to identify a patient zero. All that they knew was that it originated from one of the orbital spaceports. It traveled down a space elevator and from there across the planet
By now, every way off world was shut down. The spaceports were either under military control or total quarantine. Of the latter, many had populations in the double digits. They usually operated in the hundreds of thousands.
If the situation wasn’t brought under control by the end of the rotation, Khruntian High Command will order the total glassing of the planet. The situation would not be stabilized in time.
The doctors knew this, but they were too busy to care.
The dead filled the beds. The dying filled the waiting rooms. The sick were everywhere.
Already, the military had begun torching buildings with living occupants still inside. Several hotspots had already been subjected to naval bombardment. There were rumors that antimatter warheads have already been authorized.
Three-quarters of the hospital’s staff had been infected. Half were already dead.
Despite that, they still did their jobs. They were doctors. They would fight until the very end.
Few could have predicted the arrival of the Terran Plagues.
Those that did were silenced. When bribes didn’t work, plasma casters finished the job.
The Terrans were to be prime trading partners with the wider galaxy. They always seemed to have a knack for being good at nearly everything. Not the best, but better than most.
The Sol System, Sol-3 in particular, was resource-rich to a fault. While other races struggled to cast off the shackles of their home system, the Terrans had a birthright only thought fantastical.
It had to be too good to be true.
It was.
Sol-3 was fertile to a fault. While the many plants and animals of the world were indeed incredible, they were merely a fraction of all life that resided there. They were outnumbered three to one by single-celled organisms.
Beneath the blue skies, Sol-3 was smothered in a blanket of bacteria.
The Terrans themselves were cautious. Sickness was simply a part of life. Influenza, E. coli, the Common Cold, salmonella, these “simple” diseases were everywhere. But then, these were the Terrans, a species still wet behind the ears. Of course they would have trouble eradicating these illnesses, they simply lacked the technology to do so.
This should have been detected. It was. But the merchants and politicians of the galaxy were too focused on the other things the Terrans had to offer to care. How could the Terrans, fresh to the galactic stage, threaten them, with all of their medical technology?
By the time this was realized, tens of trillions were dead and thousands of worlds were left barren. Soon, suspicion turned to blame, blame into hatred, and hatred into violence.
The Terrans were a threat to the wider galaxy. Everywhere their diseased-ridden hands touched, death followed.
When quarantines fail, eradication is in order.
Year 8
There were simply too many of them.
Deep within the Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center, Staff Sergeant Diaz watched the battlescreen in horror.
Her job was to manage emergency response resources across the Yucatán Peninsula, bringing in national response teams if needed. Her job was no longer required, the Yucatán Peninsula no longer existed.
The combined navies of the nations of Earth were wiped out, and so to her colonies. Now with nothing left to oppose them, the fleets of the galaxy had brought their guns to bear on the Terran homeworld. There would be no escape.
Diaz’s eyes tracked the many icons that raced for their bunker. Hundreds of warheads screamed for their final sanctuary. It was then a voice crackled over the loudspeaker.
“Greetings all, this is the President. If you are hearing this, then you are listening to the final broadcast of this great nation. Sadly, we cannot offer you a solace or reprieve. We can only say this: This is not the end, there will be another time. Thank you for participating in the American Experiment. God bless you, and God bless the Consolidated Systems of America!”
Her heart sank as the message finished. The alarms continued to blare within the base. Around her, people continued to scramble. Some frantically shouted messages, desperately coordinating resistance efforts until the very end, others simply prayed.
For her, Diaz closed her eyes and waited.
She didn’t have to wait long.
But the nations of Sol-3 were not blind. They could see the coming storm.
When the Terrans first began their integration into the galactic community, they were granted access to the galaxy-wide holonet. Within nanoseconds of the digital bridge being opened, two things were sent through.
The first were translation packages so that the Internet and Holonet could communicate. The second was a legion information-gathering AI.
AI flooded the networks by the hundreds, gathering information, analyzing patterns, making millions of predictions by the second. These AI would require no data fortresses to keep their digital minds thinking. No, they instead were spread across the trillions of servers that the Holonet was built upon. The only way to remove them entirely would be to shut down the Holonet completely.
When the tide of public opinion began to turn, the AI took action.
Initially, it worked. Exposes and pro-Terran articles flooded the Holonet. But the galaxy took notice too. Intelligent as they may be, the AI were still heavily outnumbered by the Billions of propagandists and journalists of the wider galaxy.
Soon, the outcome became clear. The Terrans would be wiped out by a galaxy-wide coalition. It was a mathematical certainty.
Thus, the nations of the Sol-3 met in secret. Behind closed doors, they worked to ensure the survival of their species.
Year 5
“Is this really all that we can do?” The Indian representative asked. “Meeting behind closed doors, scheming in the shadows?”
“For our species to survive, in the shadows we must thrive.” The Japanese representative responded. The Indian man sighed, turning to the holographic avatar at the center of the table. “Tell me, what is the probability that this will work?”VISHNU’s avatar was of an unusual shape. It displayed a spinning 4-Dimensional cube, a Tesseract. The hologram lit up as it responded. Its voice was heavily modulated, but nevertheless spoke clearly.
“Given the resources and technology we have available, the best that can be guaranteed is at least a 75% chance of total success. If you do not all sign the Covenant, then that chance becomes zero.”
The Brazilian delegate picked up the piece of paper and eyed it. It read “The Covenant for the future of Humanity”. A cold sweat ran down her forehead. She set it down flat, unable to look at it any longer.
“So tell me VISHNU,” The delegate addressed the AI directly. “Other than betting our entire future on a plan that may not work and whose results we will not live to see, what are our options?”
“There is only one, extinction.”
The armies of the galaxy would come for them. When they did, they had no hope of defeating them. To survive, Terra would have to rise from the dead.
Any Arks the Terrans build until this point would inevitably be intercepted and destroyed. With the entire galaxy watching them, they had to wait until their eyes were turned. Then they would have to flee, never to return. The Terrans would have to survive in the shadows for millennia before they would be accepted back into the fold, if at all.
It would not be pleasant, but it was necessary.
A Stronghold would need to be built. One that could be buried deep enough to survive the bombardments and evade the enemy’s scanners. Millions of frozen embryos alongside an AI data fortress would need to be inside of it. It also had to be self-sufficient for centuries, nothing less would suffice.
Sol-4 was chosen, owing to its thick lithosphere. Work began quietly under the guise of a mining expedition. Tunnel-boring machines dug hundreds of kilometers down, stopping just above where the mantle became liquid.
Once the base infrastructure was established and the embryos placed within, the entrance was sealed. A mining accident, they claimed. As the Terrans forgot about it, work continued below.
Automated machines mined raw minerals to self-replicate. The server rooms were built and expanded upon. The living Terrans that were selected to live within the Stronghold were placed into stasis pods. Then, ever so slowly, an Ark would be built.
Year 117
Private Zedressinni was bored.
He kicked a rock on the barren surface of Sol-4, watching as it rolled away. He looked around. The planet was dead. It was dead long before he got here, and it would be dead long after. He hated this place.
After being caught mating with a general’s son, he was “deployed” to Sol-4 for five long rotations. Though his actions didn’t technically break any laws, his clan couldn’t do much when the general pulled some strings and had him shipped off to the most lifeless region of known space.
His superiors fed him a load of excrement about how he was “honoring the quadrillions that died in the Great Plagues” and “ensuring that the Terrans never rise again”, whatever that meant. All he did was walk around doing precisely nothing.
They wouldn’t even let him entertain himself. He got a formal reprimand for using Terran skeletons as target practice. The reason? Improper use of ammunition. He still won the annual system-wide shooting competition the military held, much to their chagrin.
Zedressinni flinched and his helmet’s lens polarized as a blinding flash of light filled his vision. His training kicking in, the Hren’kin soldier dove for the ground.
He grumbled a curse under his breath. Looks like another unexploded Terran nuke went off. Great, more paperwork.
Zedressinni stood once the shockwave passed. Looking at the mushroom cloud, he narrowed his seven eyes. The blast seemed far bigger than the usual Terran tactical nukes that typically go off. His eyes then widened as he caught sight of it.
A massive ship rose from the center of the cloud. Its sublight engines burned incredibly hot as it ascended. Zedressinni watched as it disappeared into the sky. He stood there for a moment, utterly dumbfounded.
A beat, then he frantically fumbled for his communicator.
The Terrans were alive.
A/N: This is the first part of an ongoing series I have planned within this setting. I was originally going to post it all in one story, however I decided to break it up and spread it across multiple entries. It won’t be long, probably about 5 at the most. This way I can ensure the optimal pacing of the story since otherwise it’d be a fairly long 10,000-ish word piece. I’ll update this when the next part is released.
The main goal of this story is to explore the idea of Hu8man diseases being significantly more dangerous than the ones in the wider galaxy. I've seen other stories cover similar ground, but they usually don't explore what would happen in a true galaxy-wide pandemic. Iirc one story had the common cold be extremely deadly to aliens, but it didn't go further than the humans saying "oh, that's it?". Not to disparage them, but peace and happy endings don't leave much room for experimentation.
2024.05.13 19:38 TypewriterTypeWrote [SF] 'Diamonds' Part 1 (Part of the 'Human Nature' series)
PART 1
“Don’t touch!” Abe commanded, slapping Max’s hand away. They were both bent over at the waist, admiring.“Sorry, it’s just… so… what is it?”
“I call it the Alchemic Thaumaturgator.”
“Of course you do. Is that because you couldn’t think of anything simpler, or you just liked the way it rolls off the tongue?” Max smirked.
“Mmm, it’s a work in progress.” He flung a sideways glare at him.
“Sure. So what is one of these?”
“It’s complicated and delicate and to be honest it’s a bit of a mystery, even to me.”
“Right.” There was a moment of silence as they continued scrutinising.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Abe murmured, almost to himself.
“I mean, yeah, of course….”
“Don’t look at me like that, I can’t tell you what I don’t know!” Abe stood up and let out a disgruntled huff.
“Hmm. Well, it’s confusing enough to give you nausea just looking at it so I’m sure they’d love it as an offering for the Nobel Prize, especially with a name like ‘Alcomic Thordy-whatsit.’”
“Well, maybe, if it gets that far. I nearly broke it last week, which is why I’m telling you,” Abe stood up straighter, one hand on his hip and the other pointed firmly at Max, “to strictly to keep your curious hands to yourself, ok? I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary.”
“Ok ok, I won’t touch it. But really, it looks like it should be in a museum somewhere. Or a Cabinet of Curiosities...”
“Little good would it do in either of those places.” Abe turned to Max and clasped both his hands in his own. “Listen, you are my closest friend and this thing is very important to me. I wouldn’t leave it with you if I didn’t think you were perfectly capable of safeguarding it, so please don’t worry, I know it’s in good hands.”
“If you really think I’m up to it?”
“I do.”
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment!” Max threw his arms in the air in a sarcastic show of tah-dah! “Go forth, oh Knight of Overly-Complex Science, go do what you have to do and I’ll keep an eye on this beast for you. Shove it on the table and I’ll look after it and Will Not Touch It.”
Abe looked put out, but comically so. “Is that really what you think I sound like?” He laughed. “I’ll put it over here, then. Get in touch if you need me, any time. You have my contacts?”
“I do…” Max fumbled around his pockets. “They’re… here. Got them right here.”
“Good. In which case I’ll leave you to your own devices. See you soon, and thank you.”
“See you soon.”
“Take care. Oh, one more thing. If you talk to it, it talks back.” Abe shut the door behind himself.
***
“So, you’re an Alchronic Thormome… grater? Doesn’t sound right… So tell me, what is one of them?” Max stared at the thing, perplexed.
It reminded him of what the love-child would be between a glass roller coaster and a steampunk jellyfish, though it bore absolutely no resemblance at all to a jellyfish, and fascinated him far more than that nature documentary he had been watching last week ever could. Jellyfish bobbing around and being brainless and boring, and when they weren’t they were stinging people to death and getting eaten by turtles. Even the name is boring. Jelly. Fish. Like those squidgy, dry-goo kids toys that you’re supposed to throw at the window but gets hair stuck to it when it falls on the carpet. Yuck.
Which was weird, considering this monstrosity he had been tasked with looking after was definitely the most interesting and intricate and pretty thing he had probably ever clapped eyes on. It had a heaviness to it, a purpose. And it felt like it was watching him.
Better steer clear for a while. It looks weird, he had been told things that absolutely made it sound weird and to be honest, it frightened him a little.
He wasn’t usually one to be afraid. Hell, he’d always been the brawn of his sturdy group of friends, right since he was a kid. He had worked his way up the proverbial ladder and had been widely recognised as the guy you don’t screw with at his school, though he wasn’t particularly proud of how he got there, (there had been a lot of fights behind the bike sheds and nicked sandwiches under the threat of blackmail at lunch). But he had forgotten all that and settled himself into being the relatively good-looking, popular, flirtatious guy who did a moderately average job in the eyes of his colleagues and had a moderate measure of success with the ladies.
Made no sense then that this contraption he had been lumbered with for a stint had shaken him by its sheer solidness on his front room table. It seemed to be unmovable in its presence, though it was light as a feather when it had been brought in and that fact in itself threw him because how can something that looked so substantial weigh that little? His bloody breakfast weighed more!
“What the hell are you?” Max wondered out loud.
He sat and stared at the thing for the longest time, watching to see if it would move. Only the sparkly inner swirled. Nothing more. It gave him the feeling of lying on the bottom of the ocean, staring at the sun beams though the surface until it started to fade. His eyes stared to fade. His mind went blank. He was being sucked down a long, dark tunnel of still water by his chest, he was sinking and swimming and becoming the empty space around him, it seemed he could feel the particles in the air as they vibrated and resounded in his ears, felt himself being blinded…
Max blinked and snapped back into the room, found himself standing in front of the machine. The studded brass bands holding the tubes together rotated slowly, silently.
Yeah, there’s something not right about that thing. Something unnatural.
Slowly backing out of the room and trying very hard not to show the Alcolic Thormatador… Thermanter… the thing that it was making him uncomfortable, he sidled through the doorway and into the hall. Yeah, that thing is just plain wrong.
In the corridor he paused, tried to laugh at himself.
This thing is just metal and glass and sparkly water, he thought. It doesn’t have the brainpower to understand that I feel some kind of way about it and even if it did, what is it going to do? It’s an invention, a machine and nothing more and machines are made by people, made by my friend, so what the hell is there to be afraid of?
He reached the kitchen, surprised at his own existential awareness that seemed to come quite fluidly, which was most unlike him. Maybe he was getting soft in the head. He heard that happened at a certain time of life but that phenomenon would be a bit premature. He wasn’t much past his third decade, thank you very much!
Max filled a mug from the water boiler and threw in a teabag and a few sugars. He squeezed the bag against the side of the mug until the dregs started dropping, plapped it in the sink and poured in milk. He stirred his tea well, just as always, but now the clinking of the mug took on an added layer of comfort when he knew what was in the front room. He wasn’t in a dark tunnel where he couldn’t do anything but watch, he was in his own kitchen that he had had rebuilt last year. He picked out the worktops and cupboards, he chose the shiny silver appliances, he bought the gourmet herbs and put them on the window sill, slightly over-watered and flooding their drip trays until they almost overflowed. He was in his own kitchen, familiar down to the millimetre, and solid. Nothing could touch him here.
No, he thought, it’s just an invention. A thing.
He put the spoon down with certainty on the worktop and squared his shoulders: he marched down the hall towards the front room with his tea in his left hand and the right balled up into a fist. He paused for a second outside the door. No sound.
This is my house, I won’t be intimidated in my own damned house.
He rounded the corner, planted his feet wide and glared hard at the thing.
“Look, I don’t know what you are,” he said to the machine, “but you don’t look dangerous. And seeing as we’re going to be spending some time together, I’m just going to ignore you and you can ignore me, ok? No making me feel like I’m being watched, no making me feel like I’m swimming around somewhere in space, no more weird stuff and I won’t put you in the loft. We’ll coexist in blissful harmony, like water and jellyfish.”
The Alchemic Thaumaturgator just sat there, glistening.
“Ok. Good. Fine.”
He grabbed the fern and the shamefully stunted lucky bamboo (that damned plant his cat was always rubbing his face on) that were perched next to the door and shoved them onto the table in front of the machine, mostly obscuring it from view. Better.
Max backed up and sat on the couch under the window, across the room from the table and that freakish unicorn turd of a contraption. He wrenched his eyes away for just long enough to put on the television and throw one final look over at the thing on his table, searching for it amongst the foliage. It hadn’t moved. It just sat there. He gestured at it rudely with a slightly shaking hand.
The soothing sound of the narrator drew him back into his TV and another nature documentary, this time about the great apes of the rainforests of Western Africa. This was much more interesting. He swivelled sideways in his chair to face the screen directly, sipping away at his tea.
“See,” he said towards the table, “this is exactly what…”
He glanced back and promptly fell out of his chair. His tea went flying as his mug thudded to the floor in an all too under-dramatic fashion compared to what his adrenaline was doing.
The thing was lighting up! It was glowing! Only a little bit but it was actually putting out light!
“Jeez!” Max shouted at it from the floor. “What is that? How is that happening? What is it doing? Stop it! Stop it!”
He scrambled around, on his hands and knees and still on the floor, trying to shut off the sounds of viciously shaken branches and primates howling at each other. The screen mercifully emitted a heavy click and fell into blackness as the remote fell to the floor. In the resounding silence of the room it was just Max, his adrenaline-fuelled breathing and the glass machine.
He stared at it. It absolutely was staring at him, even from between the leaves, there was no doubt, the liquid in the middle was pooling and somehow gathering at the front of the tubes facing the room. The glowing light had already started to fade and the liquid lost concentration and dispersed again, slowly swirling around in all its glittery glory, just as it had before.
Max was still splayed out on the floor, his breathing struggling to return to normal. He stood up and flattened himself shakily against the wall.
“What just happened?” he muttered under his breath. “What the hell was that…”
The thing looked at him, ‘nothing to see here,’ it said, feigning innocence.
“Whatever you are, just stay the hell away from me!” Max shouted at the machine as skirted around the walls until he got to the doorway. The door was ajar but, because his eyes were fixed in horror at the fragments of the machine that were exposed from within the plants, he bumped backwards into the door, nudging it closed and clicking it shut. Fumbling for the handle he tried to wrench it open, only to find the handle in his hand, horrifyingly detached.
He was stuck in there with it.
Panic flooded his body. A sharp twist in his gut and sweat poured from every millimetre of his skin and a faint whine emitted from his mouth.
Deep breaths, he told himself. Deep breaths, you can figure this out. It can’t hurt you, so just sit down and figure it out.
He sat himself back on the sofa, pushing it further back and rucking up the rug into waves in front of him with his feet. Never had he been so afraid of an inanimate object before. Spiders, yes. The open ocean, yes. Heights, yes. But this?
He sat staring at it, filtering his brain through his usual coping processes. He couldn’t beat it, like he had done in school. He couldn’t charm it, like he had done at the office…
“It’s an elaborate Newton’s Cradle, for Christ’s sake! A fancy-man’s Rubik’s cube!” he told himself. “Some science experiment that a five year old could have done. Yeah, I bet he just put some glow stick stuff in the water and mixed it up and told me it’s real to scare me. It doesn’t even look that bad.” He stood up and took a hesitant half step towards it on quavering knees and reluctant feet, fighting the ‘flight’. “See? Can’t hurt me.”
Max blinked. The thing hadn’t even moved. What was so scary about it anyway? The glowing? It was probably the reflection off the TV. He moved the plants from in front of it with outstretched arms and stepped back as far as he could go.
“I’m going to call you Ruth,” he said, getting bold and pointing at it, “because Alcoholic Thermo… whatever is just ridiculous. Ok? And Ruth was my grandma’s name, and I liked her, she was safe as houses.” Sure, his grandma had died of an embolism nearly ten years ago, but he wasn’t going to admit that to this thing that he didn’t even know what an embolism was. Ruth was a safe name and the familiarity was comforting.
He felt the liquid moving towards the front of the glass again, shimmering and pulling him in. He felt his fear spike, then dissolve. It couldn’t hurt him. He was safe. He was in control.
“I think it was mean of him to call you something so ridiculous. But I suppose if he’s going to go for the Nobel Prize they like that kind of thing, don’t they?” He half laughed, took another step towards it. “Those competitions are always stupid though, nobody ever comes up with anything really new, it’s not like they’ve invented hovercraft cars or machines that can take you on holidays to the afterlife, is it?” He had nearly reached the table now. The tubes were glowing a little still and he could see something moving in there. His curiosity peaked over the top of his fear and had a good look at the prospect of getting closer. Curiosity decided to get closer.
Max leaned down, hands on knees, and stared into the ever-moving swirls that flowed through the glass tubing. Arms extended to their full defensive stance, he gently nudged the plants out of the way and took a good look at Ruth. He remembered his friend saying something about studs and elements.
“Hey, there they are! I didn’t see these before! So those… those are elements? Are they elements?” He asked the glass, dumbfoundedly pointing at the stuff he had assumed was glitter but now wasn’t half as sure. He had never seen elements before…
Ripples glowed in the liquid: it had heard him. They moved closer and were warming now, somehow.
“No way!” Max exclaimed, his mouth hanging open. So this is what Abe had meant! “It’s not possible! It’s not real! Is it real? Are you real?” He asked. “Of course you’re real, you’re sitting on my table! Ha! What a stupid question Max. So, if I ask you a question, are you gonna answer me, huh?”
The glass glittered at him, but nothing else.
“Ok, are you alive?”
Nothing.
“Hmph. Maybe it was a trick of the light.”
No answer.
Max flopped into the sofa, his brows furrowed at Ruth.
He found himself talking to himself, trying to dispel the weird energy that his friend’s invention had brought with it.
“This thing is strange. He said if I talk to it then it responds, but I asked it a question and it doesn’t do anything, but when I was watching that monkey progr…”
He stopped short.
“Yeah! Let’s shove that chimp documentary back on, shall we?”
Click, the screen shot into life of every colour of the rainforest, the howls echoing around the room. But Max didn’t watch the TV, he had his eyes firmly fixed on Ruth, remote still in hand in front of her, waiting expectantly.
Nothing. Dammit. Just the glittery same as glittery before.
Max tried not to let the tidal wave of disappointment wash him away. Maybe it wasn’t the show. Maybe it was a prank, a trick of the light after all.
Max bent to put the remote on the arm of the sofa. The light from the TV shone onto the table and Ruth crescendoed into life and started throwing out beams of light that looked like the solar flares he had seen on that awful show about space and rocks and stuff he wasn’t in the least bit interested in but had watched anyway.
But he had figured out the key: he was standing in between Ruth and the screen and his shadow had been overcasting the table! Ruth needed a full view to do… that thing… whatever it was that she was doing with the light.
Ping, pong, ping, pong, his eyes went between Ruth and the monkeys sailing through the trees by their ridiculously long arms, right up until the credits started rolling and she faded to a faint glow again. She still glittered but it wasn’t the same. She definitely needed encouragement. Inspiration, if you will.
Max flicked across through each channel, watching Ruth closely for any changes (of which there were none,) tock, tock, tock went the remote until he found a different channel, one that was obviously designed for people with limited imagination, because wow, even he can outpace the monotonous nasal narrator and he didn’t consider himself a particularly clever man! He wasn’t stupid either, but on the last one when they started to explain what a bacteria is he had lost his rag and shouted at the screen a bit.
“Everyone knows what a bloody bacteria is!” he had yelled. “Tell me something I don’t know, yeesh! Whoever said these documentaries were supposed to be informative obviously hadn’t got two brain cells to run together.” But the cinematography was nice. Lots of nature-looking things to watch, the natural world an’ all.
This time it was about walruses. All flopping around on the sea shore, getting sunburned and jabbing at each other with their overgrown chompers. He had seen this one before, it wasn’t as patronising as the others. Predictably narrated, yes, but not patronising.
He turned up the volume and spun round to look at Ruth.
She was throwing out flares again, hundreds of short wisps!
And just to test the theory, he tocked across onto the menu screen and selected a random game show that he had never heard of. True to form, Ruth dimmed back to her uninspired state of simple glitteritude.
“AHA! I knew it! You’re a sucker for the nature channel too! Aha! Ahahaha!”
Max threw up his arms in celebration, the remote going flying, cheering into the emptiness of the room. Empty, except for him and this thing which apparently had a liking for chimps and sunburnt sea mammals.
Damn, this thing is incredible, he thought. Why the hell, how the hell does it…?
He sat, flabbergasted, mouth agape.
Suddenly he jumped up, scrabbling around behind the sofa trying to find the remote again, where is it where is it where is it…
He flicked the volume up and down and Ruth still put out light. She shone and shone, the beauty!
He started singing to her, “shine on, you crazy diamond!”
She seemed to like that, too.
2024.05.13 14:15 Ufonauter In 1986 an Italian professor working for the University of Pavia in Italy would have a face to face encounter with an unknown entity. But unlike so many other encounters, this professor was able to take 5 photos.
 | To begin with, I will state that this post was months in the making (mostly waiting and chasing false leads) and carries with it perhaps some answers, plenty of questions, and perhaps for some, a similarity to their own experiences. Special thanks to u/Neo-Rex as well as u/ebycon for their assistance in helping me find and rule out some areas of research. submitted by Ufonauter to HighStrangeness [link] [comments] Disclaimer: The following images and text are provided without photo manipulation on my end (besides simple cropping and scanning). There are going to be many references in this post to Italian media, magazines, as well as individual writers. This is by no means an endorsement, advertisement, or other form of ARG intended to sell, market, or persuade anyone to buy, rent, or procure any of the described materials. Because I know this is a new area of topic, and because the images provided are of an unusual nature, I will provide various sources to prove that these images are not enhanced, manipulated by hand or by a contemporary photo manipulation program or AI generation. Before we get into the nitty gritty of the images I will provide background as to how I came upon these images, and the flow of information. I was first made aware of these images after researching separate alien encounters for a post of mine (see that post here for further details regarding that) one of the sources used was "alieni in italia 1945-1995 50 anni di incontri ravvicinati". On page VIII towards the back of the book these images (or rather image as three were compressed into one section) as well as the following text appears https://preview.redd.it/zz1ti49qm60d1.jpg?width=806&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e53f7b8ec62fb68abc04a29caa117d2f21c13325 "Vero alieno o scoop giornalistico? Ho evitato di inserire nel presente catalogo questo caso avvero singolare. Si tratte infatti di alcune foto )5_ scattate da un non meglio indentificato "professore universitario di pavia" nell'estate del 1986 e pubblicate da sette. il settimanale del Corriere della Sera. Si referiscono ad una presunta entita aliena che si sarebbe manifestata al professore in una situazione del tutto casuale. Non sono mancati pareri sfavorevoli expressi da parecchi ufologi. ( Foto tratte da: Sette n. 9/10 sette giorni illustrati dal Corriere della Sera, 5 marzo, 1988. Translated: "Real alien or journalistic scoop? I have avoided including in the present catalog this singular case. These are in fact some photos(5) taken by an unidentified "university professor from Pavia" in the summer of 1986 and published by seven. The weekly newspaper Corriere della Sera. They refer to an alleged alien entity that allegedly manifested itself to the professor in a completely random situation. There was no shortage of unfavorable opinions expressed by several ufologists. ( Photo taken from: Seven No. 9/10 seven days illustrated by Corriere della Sera, March 5, 1988. That was all the information provided within. (it should be noted that although this description mentions 5 photos, there are only these 3 provided within Moreno Tambellinis book.) These images captured my attention fairly quickly as I am fairly familiar with purported alien/supernatural photographs, so to find one I have never seen, and in such a quality which is general not present within other such photos as these, was more than enough to tip my curiosity in the direction of delving deeper. First attempt at finding further information regarding these photos, and this particular magazine issue ended in little success, though I was able to find what I, at the time, believed to be a correctly colorized image of this entity. See below. https://preview.redd.it/xpyz6eeum60d1.png?width=341&format=png&auto=webp&s=292a9a3afe55c7e83d0f6d5ccce43aa5f35d9fec Unassuming on some random blog that attributed a name to this entity while providing no further information regarding the image itself (as certain ufological circles are want to do). Not finding further information I attempted to find further information based off of this colorized image, but to no avail. Save for one source that used this image ( in a different colorized manner, slightly less yellow and oozing with potential, that being this image by Argentinian Ufologist Dante Franch. See below. https://preview.redd.it/tl0dx4lym60d1.png?width=280&format=png&auto=webp&s=ca523a7f18df130f09c9174e925d044a89852690 Finally, someone who might have a lead on this information! But no, once again this image is deceptively alluring as the contents of this book have absolutely nothing to do with the Sette report, but simply use its image to describe unsourced and unverified tales of the City of Erks (a wild dive on its own and may be deserving of its own post) and other entities that supposedly have a resemblance to this cover image. Upon further searches I came across this archived link with additional images some with closer to truth color, including the aforementioned first colorized image here https://web.archive.org/web/20080312200229/https://www.anomalia.org/perspectivas/fotosets/campo_cielo.htm as well as the additional references. The author of this blog post is Mexican Ufologist Luis Ruiz Noguez, notable for his skepticism and thorough investigation relating to this material, so it was a no-brainier to look into his research regarding this seeing as he had previously mentioned it here on his blogpost. So where better to look than his book "Extraterrestres ante las camaras" Volume X dealing specifically with italian encounters and purported alien photographs. But again, despite his previous notation in this blog, the contents of these images specifically are nowhere to be seen or mentioned within this book. Research stagnated for some time during the search process for the original source cited in Moreno Tambellinis book. I was able after five months (you have no idea how hard it was to find a copy) able to acquire a copy of this magazine and finally was able to determine that the previously assumed white coverall of this entities outfit has been a false notion. The following text is a translation of the pages within this issue of march 7th 1988 Sette: Corriere della Cera . 9/10, the original scans, as well as a translated text document of these pages can be found in the sources listed below. Important note: although these images are primary focus of this article, it does meander into thoughts on Whitley Striebers book "Communion" (which will be a source of contention that will be covered later in this post). But the translated post here is the relevant text to these images. "Just as we were editing a report on the UFO phenomenon that was supposed to appear on 7 at the same time as the television passage of Spielberg's film Close Encounters of the third kind, we came across a resounding surprise: the images published in these pages and on the cover of this issue. They were taken completely by chance, one summer evening in 1986, by a professor at the University of Pavia, above all suspicion and known for his balance, his intelligence and rationality, completely alien to the somewhat emphatic and vaguely bizarre world of the so-called "contactees": those people who say they have entered into a relationship with unknown entities from the cosmos." "He is a completely normal person who has always been skeptical of the reports of unidentified flying objects and is now also a testimony, erroneous to the idea that his name is related to the disturbing figure captured by his camera. The university lecturer has agreed to give us what he considers to be evidence of his shocking experience in exchange for absolute confidentiality" "What to make of these images? We can make a few assumptions. A) The author of the photos is a mystrifier. It is unlikely: too much resistance has opposed the publication of his document (which he has yielded for free to 7). In addition, he wishes to remain anonymous. A behavior that is certainly not that of those who want to speculate on a scooop, true or presumed. B) The author is the victim of a game. Someone made him take "fireflies for lanterns". A well-thought-out game, by true professionals. It is not unlikely, even if the professor is not a "contactee", one obsessed with extraterrestrials, that is, a man who could arouse "temptations" among those who know him. C) The photos really document something alien. A mysterious otherness has been captured by the professor's camera, who was the first to be surprised by this tangible presence, imprinted on the film that is absolutely different from a hallucination. What to say? What are we to think of images that forcefully re-propose the problem (or the dream, or the myth, or the nightmare) of the existence of other beings, of other civilizations that populate galaxies or dimensions unknown to us? Science continues to question these facts, but an answer is still a long way off. All experiences at the "edge of reality" are embarrassing. The line that divides science and mystery is still vague. Prudence, in these cases, is a must. And the desire not to appear is widespread among the witnesses. The professor from Pavia, who chose restriction, has an illustrious precedent." "These images, taken on a summer evening in 1986 by a professor at the University of Pavia, who asked to remain anonymous, are the subject of various hypotheses of interpretation in the text of the article. The reader is free to draw his own conclusions." Here are the direct scans of this entity as they appear in the magazine, scanned directly out of a physical copy of this magazine. (do note although these images are uploaded in different order I believe they may be sorted as such, I make no claim to the accuracy of this in terms of chronological order, but which is most aesthetically appeasing.) https://preview.redd.it/mk91ugp3n60d1.png?width=520&format=png&auto=webp&s=8218b2c6c3b0a508ef086c37c2d0e07552f73910 https://preview.redd.it/7cehtg65n60d1.png?width=385&format=png&auto=webp&s=805fe3d0c8be92d888412d1eeccef6bc88a4708a https://preview.redd.it/izuhsjl6n60d1.png?width=388&format=png&auto=webp&s=215f53fa963abdeecb06ad8074583f7260b2df69 https://preview.redd.it/no9xn3f7n60d1.png?width=380&format=png&auto=webp&s=4ed13e6bf07df8a251f6368aab92383ad1bb26ca https://preview.redd.it/hnf9x148n60d1.png?width=379&format=png&auto=webp&s=80de62f126a5f7770a12790d167e0aebea8ef378 Now, while the article was very keen to post certain aspects of this, it was rather lacking, and it must be stated although the title of this issue, as well as the description in the article infer this is related to UFO's. There is no mention of an actual UFO or craft present within this encounter, or at the very least, this information was omitted from the article, and was potentially removed at the request of the professor in question, though that is speculation on my part. The following sections will deal with the author of this previous issue, as well as the two follow-up articles and their individual authors. There is more information present as the above text states, not from the previous issue, but from two separate follow-up articles that were saved and printed in the Italian Ufo magazine "UFO express no. 043." Link to the full untranslated issue here/UFO%20Express%20-%20No%20043.pdf). These separate addendums fully cover the images in question and are critical but not overly-so. The most important aspect to this is that the professor provided further information to Sette, primarily about what they were doing prior to this entities appearance, but also their means of photographic capture. {Page 1} UFO: Is this being from another world? read the scroll on the cover of 7 (No. 9/10) that we republish on this page. Hundreds of phone calls and letters arrived at the editorial office, and they continue to arrive after Mino Damato in his TV program Alla ricerca dell'arca (Sunday, March 27, Rai 3 8:30 p.m.) dealt with the same images, depicting a hypothetical alien photographed by a professor at the University of Pavia one summer evening in 1986. There are those who believe in this hypothetical alien and those who do not, but all of the readers who have phoned or written are bound to each other by the rejection of that question mark printed on the cover: each of them is persuaded to erase the hypothesis, to tear away the veil of the enigma. And they split into two equally intolerant parties, leaving no room for doubt. We have chosen two exemplary letters. The first letter comes from Brixen and is signed by Mr. Nicola De Paola (2 Clesia Street). He says “the alien is a tobogganist: typical are the tight suit the aerodynamic helmet, the face crushed by the transparent visor, the blurred colors and contours of the photos are due to the fact that they were taken from television, with the obj vo blurred or too close up and strange an alien with limbs, head, face and body identical to those of man; I too will be able to take photographs quite similar to those published; as a reader I feel mocked.” Others have certainly seen in the hypothetical alien: a surgeon, a nurse, an ice skater, an Icelandic firefighter, a Norwegian cryologist (sic), a KGB spy, a hockey player with his head bandaged; in short, some man in overalls or uniforms. No one has identified in the figures, despite the width of the pelvis, a woman or an androgynous. The second letter comes from Ferrara and is signed by Mr. Giovanni Mantovani (via Luigi Borsari 51). Says; When I saw the photographs I immediately thought: but look, it looks like the E.T. seen by R.M on September 2, 1987 while he was fishing on the bank of the Canal Bianco (RO). He felt an intense tingling, turned around and saw a strange individual: dark complexion, 2 meters tall, hair that looked like plastic, wearing a luminescent blue jumpsuit. The apparition lasted a few seconds.R.M. felt a chill, a feeling that was renewed at the sight of your photos... Only one remark can be made to the professor of Pavia: that of not having given the readers further clarifications about the close approach of the third type... Here are the further clarifications that the professor from Pavia has allowed us to give, although he is consumed by the fear of being uncovered and covered with ridicule. The photos were taken by a Nikon camera, with motor-drive, 55 mm lens. Micro, 3.5 aperture, shutter speed: 1/4 second Polachrome film, 40 Asa sensitivity. Shortly after the sun went down, the professor was completing some experiments on the optical perception of dogs (how does a dog see things in the world? Black and white? With what depth, in what perspective?). That alone is almost ridiculous. We were missing the hypothetical alien. A dog joke? Maybe. But the professor never solved the riddle. And dogs don't talk. ~ Paolo Pietroni {page caption} The hypothetical alien out of 7 has caused conflicting reactions. The photo was taken from a Nikon by a university lecturer while carrying out experiments on the visual perception of dogs https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paolo_Pietroni (information about this addendums author) {Page 2} Your E.T. seems to me to be a feminine being... Dear editor, I am writing to you in relation to the series of 5 photographs taken by a better identified professor of Pavia one summer evening in 1986 and which appeared in the supplement of the Corriere della Sera n. 9/10 Since I am not familiar with photographic technique, I have written down the shooting parameters communicated by you personally during Mino D'Amato's television program In Search of the Ark on March 27. Correct me if I'm wrong: Nikon camera body with motor, 5.5 mm focal length lens, aperture dia 3.5, exposure time 1/15 of a second. Certainly, with this adjustment, every little movement of the camera or of the photographed subject causes a blurred or rather blurred photograph. Probably, this whole story of the photos arose from the need of the Rizzoli Group to launch on the market the Italian version of the best American seller Communion by Ted Jacob, which deals, coincidentally, with the subject of extraterrestrials. This colossal business is also sponsored by the production of the film, which has been "posted" while waiting for the possible buyers of such a profitable product to be sufficiently sensitized... Having said this, I wish, through his kindness, to convey to the professor of Pavia my modest comments on his photos. Feminism aside, I confess that the first spontaneous observation I made on these photographs was to recognize without a shadow of a doubt a woman, or rather a female being; The conformation of the hips, the breasts, combined with the grace of the bowed pose with folded arms, unequivocally belonged to a woman. But let's get to the details. The suit - It appears so tight that it shows every little part of the body so as to give the impression of a "second skin"; It has light blue-green bands (as shown in the photo on the right on page 74) that are more evident around the neck, on the shoulders and on the arms. The hands - They appear covered by the sleeves and more elongated than ours (cover figure), dare I say w(bed. The head - Although it is more mobile, it clearly shows these elements: oval face with a slightly flattened nose, microphone with a light-colored support arm placed at the height of the left ear (photo on the right, page 74) The headset - It is completely different from any type currently built because it contains a transceiver module at the top for contact with some support organ (e.g. an operations center, or a cosmoplane, or another operator), similar to what happens in Italy when astronauts go out of their vehicle and maintain constant radio contact with the control center. The transceiver part can be seen both in the cover photo and on page 74, left and right, and is indicated by the protuberance on the top of the skull. This study was born well out of any venal or other interest, in fact I am not a ufologist, but a pilot in full flight activity and with command responsibilities; I have been a first-hand witness to the phenomenon commonly associated with the improper name of UFO Sure of the need to deal with the subject with more compatible methodologies than those promulgated by scientists and ufologists, I dedicate myself to the enhancement of aeronautical contactism, intending with this new term to redefine the sightings of military and civil pilots, aeronautical technicians, engineers, etc. who through direct experience with the phenomenon have acquired the conviction that we are not alone Only those who have had a direct impact with the phenomenon (the contactee) can provide a plausible image of themselves... everything else... They are only lucubrations born from mindsets that are not up-to-date with the present sotric moment on the one hand, and with the characteristics of the phenomenon on the other. {end of article caption} I forwarded his observations to the professor in Pavia, author of the photos depicting the hypothetical alien. Thank you for your interesting analysis. You are free to believe it or not, but the Rizzoli Communion book had an absolutely random presence in our service: we liked the design of the cover; the portrait of that E.T. and we thought of enriching the illustrations of the service. Roberto Doz (a fairly interesting individual on his own, air force colonel with his own UFO sighting) read more on that here As for the author of the original article. Their name is Nullo Cantaroni, and may be more well known by his wife Bice Cairati( Sveva Casati Modigiani), Nullo Cantaroni had a fairly successful journalistic career, dealing primarily in medicine as co-authorized by fellow science journalist Severina Cantaroni. He eventually succumbed to Parkinson's disease. I make mention of these authors, Roberto Doz (who has a very good reason to be interested in the topic as he had his own experience). As well as the other two as these are not the ramblings of some crazy pumping out their own versions of weekly world news, but were and still are highly credible and respected peoples, whom by their own association are taking the flak for posting this material to begin with. From here on out, this is going to be a further dive into the already presented material, some comparisons with other cases which have direct correlation with these images, as well as other information during my research that has not been touched on up until this point. In the first follow-up article there is mention of a show "Alla Ricera dell'arca (In search of the ARK)". With he show discussing the images posted here. I was able to confirm that this episode does exist, with the covered material, and is within the RAI archives (Italian TV network/station). However, they would not lend the episode out to a non-Italian citizen, or someone associated with a University, or media conglomeration. I mention this as there may be more material covered in this episode that was not provided in the main article and its follow-ups. If there are any Italian citizens, or peoples reading this who have the appropriate accreditation to acquire a copy of this episode I would ask for your cooperation in attempting to do so. If someone has a copy of this simply recorded off of an old VHS I implore you to make that available to all. Going back to the main article, the meandering to Communion is certainly off-putting, though I disagree with the previous mention that this was a hoax on the part of the publication to push Communion. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence after all (even though Carl Sagan never bothered with the evidence, side tangent: listen to J Allen Hynek talk about that here) But I believe these images were published in good faith on part of Nullo Cantaroni, his background and thorough career would make this unlikely. So as it figures there are three scenarios here that describe this scenario (in no particular order of likelihood) 1) these images are hoaxed by the publication to push communion 2) these images are hoaxed by the supposed professor 3) these images are legitimate and provide evidence of a non-earth based entity. Before I move on I'd like to mention that I did attempt to reach out to Corriere della Sera multiple times regarding this material but was never given a response. To round this off the images themselves. Humanoid obviously, female-appearing, now I say appearing because assuming this really is some unexpected entity, there is no guarantee that the physiology of this figure accurately represents its determination, and although this entity appears to have what we'd consider to be skin, that may only be a covering to another form or may be some type of robotic synthetic life-form designed specifically to mimic human appearances. What may be most interesting or most alarming depending on your perspective is this entities face appears to change between shots, and yet seemingly keeps the same body proportions. If you are of the opinion this is some type of hoax you could state this is an obvious inconsistency between shots. On the other hand, that is an obvious conclusion to make and showing differentiating faces would be a rather odd choice on the part of a hoaxer. This again could be part of the photographing process, as there is motion blur between some of these photos and it simply gives an appearance that things are changing. There are other features which must be touched upon, namely the clothing, but in one such photo, what appears to be some type of headgear wrapped around this entities face. To anyone with a passing knowledge of ufology and its associated lore would know, the favorite of any interstellar interloper is the tight formfitting bodysuit. Primarily described as blue, although other colors are often reported. But unlike most humanoid encounters described in the west, this entity seems to have a darker complexion about them. Now does that mean this does not fit in with established prior encounters? Not at all, for whatever reason the blonde-hair nordic is the most popular discussion topic when it comes to human-adjacent lifeforms, but in other places, and Italy especially, some of their most well know or most covered, feature entities with darker complexions. Case in point https://preview.redd.it/o7w5pu2in60d1.jpg?width=884&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=d203853c4be4a37108aeea4a7122826bd21525bb This encounter in 1978 Italy with a dark-skinned entity in a shimmering scaled suit. Or this description of a dark skinned entity with a similar described blue suit reported in 1987 Location. Villamarzana, Rome, Italy Date: September 2 1987 Time: 1700 Renzo Munari was fishing on the Bianco Canal when he noticed a strange object flying at a moderated speed over the river, as the object disappeared from sight he felt a strange prickling sensation in his body, resembling electrical static. Turning around he saw a very tall human-like figure staring intently at him. The figure was at least 2 meters in height, with orange hair and dark skin. He wore a luminous blue colored tight fitting coverall. On the left side of his chest there was a square orange colored “tag.” During the encounter the witness felt a cool wave of air and light headed. The figure apparently disappeared into the brush. Source: Archivio SUF, USOCAT by The Italian Center forUFO Studies (CISU) There is also this report from 1989 Russia Location. Salsk, Rostov region, Russia Date: August 13 1989 Time: 2300 Working at a cotton irrigation plant Vasiliy Ivanovich suddenly experienced total equipment failure without any apparent cause. While searching for the cause of the breakdown, the witness heard a loud voice, “He is searching for the cause”. Looking around he saw four humanoids standing close to him. One stood in the front, while the other three stood in the back. He described the humanoids as tall, with long dangling arms, with a large head, flattened on the top and wide at the temples. The humanoids are dark red or brown in color with large egg-shaped eyes and two holes instead of a nose. They have no lips, and thin strip instead of a mouth. They were wearing truncated shiny blue coveralls and footwear. The humanoid standing at the front of the others held a box in his hand and a soft pleasant voice seemed to emanate from the box. He held the box at stomach level. Ivanovich approached the humanoids and asked who they were; the reply was a question asking him if he wanted to go with them. At this point the witness saw a light at the edge of the nearby woods and a hovering object. The humanoids then floated slowly towards the craft and disappeared. Terrified the witness ran to the village to notify other witnesses but upon returning to the site the humanoids had already left. Source:UFOZONE Russia As for the headgear, there is a report from 1995 Italy of an entity not resembling this one in this post, but wearing a similarly described headpiece. Location: Ancona, Italy Date: February 3 1994, Time: 9:00am Six witnesses, including a Mr. Giulo observed a strange humanoid wandering around some nearby rocks. The humanoid was described as about 1 meter and a half in height, wearing a tight fitting black coverall that covered his whole body including a pair of very long feet. The face was elongated with two huge round eyes, with round black pupils. It appeared to be wearing earphones with a small thin protruding antenna. It seemed to stagger slowly and after about 10 minutes it rose up slowly and vertically into the air, quickly disappearing from sight Source: CISU Italy. There is also this case from Barisciano Italy 1978 in which an entity bearing a striking similar blue color to the outfit was seen, with an adorning white "cap" or hairpiece that resembled that of a cap. read the untranslated version of that encounter here/Notiziario%20UFO%20-%201984%2001-02%20-%20Vol%2018%20No%20102.pdf) https://preview.redd.it/3ei6o741q60d1.png?width=310&format=png&auto=webp&s=2de94be231313b38b979bbd4b46b3800466e8f26 Finally, lets get back to the person allegedly behind this whole spiel, the Professor. A claim such as this, where an entity appears in ones presence without any known means is a stark claim all on its own, to provide photos of such an encounter is another thing all together, but being as its an anonymous person, how can we gleam any credibility out of this? To put it in other words, is there enough information provided within the original article as well as the follow-up articles to speculate on a potential identity to who this man could have been? Emphatically yes, infact there is only one such individual who fits the criteria with the information provided, granted this information was given after the fact of the original articles publication. In the first article within UFO express that discusses this, we are told this person is running experiments relating to dogs (canine) eyesight, but the author was unsure whether or not this is a jest of some sort. I do not believe it is, in the secondary article it is again mentioned that this professor is working with canine eyesight, but in a caption on the second page it is emphasized this was "non-academic research". Now does that mean it was unrelated to their professional focus? No, it simply means this research was carried outside of official means. This leads me to who I believe the primary suspect is in terms of a potential identity, could there be other more accurate people? Perhaps. But this persons tenure and level of research within this subject and the timeframe of when they were working at the University of Pavia lines up perfectly with who this person could be. However, because of doxxing concerns, and that they initially requested complete anonymity from the publication I will not be directly naming their identity here. But I will heavily state that this person worked in the university of Pavia from 1985 in the zoology department and specifically with foxes and wolves. With this person having worked and published (into the present) works related to both of these fields. I have attempted to personally reach out to this professor both via email & telephone (their academic numbers, not personal) but have received no response. I would ask that if you do look into who this person is that you do not attempt to directly contact them as their lack of a response is response enough. What was the encounter like? How long did it go on for? Was there a conversation or was this a quick in and out? These questions and more are not answered here, and perhaps never will be unless someone; the professor, an associate, or anyone else, comes forward with more details we are left wondering and wanting more. There is of course much to be said about these images and the potential for further investigations, including the peculiar hands this entity seems to posses that does have a passing resemblance to other cases, but lest this drag on to long I will leave it here and attempt to answer any questions that I may be capable of giving insight on. Sources and resources used Archive link for translations and scans of original Corriere della Sera article https://archive.org/details/Paviaentity Magazine and other ufological material sources: https://files.afu.se/Downloads/?dir=./ Document scanner for afu and other documents/sites https://updb.app/ alieni in italia by Moreno Tambelini ImgOps for reverse image searching https://ufologie.patrickgross.org/sys/text.htm & Albert Rosales for their compilations of humanoid encounters. If you have had an encounter or know someone who has had an encounter similar to this or identical to this, do not hesitate to DM or message me with the details. |
2024.05.13 14:14 Ufonauter In 1986 an Italian professor working for the University of Pavia in Italy would have a face to face encounter with an unknown entity. But unlike so many other encounters, this professor was able to take 5 photos.
 | To begin with, I will state that this post was months in the making (mostly waiting and chasing false leads) and carries with it perhaps some answers, plenty of questions, and perhaps for some, a similarity to their own experiences. Special thanks to u/Neo-Rex as well as u/ebycon for their assistance in helping me find and rule out some areas of research. submitted by Ufonauter to Humanoidencounters [link] [comments] Disclaimer: The following images and text are provided without photo manipulation on my end (besides simple cropping and scanning). There are going to be many references in this post to Italian media, magazines, as well as individual writers. This is by no means an endorsement, advertisement, or other form of ARG intended to sell, market, or persuade anyone to buy, rent, or procure any of the described materials. Because I know this is a new area of topic, and because the images provided are of an unusual nature, I will provide various sources to prove that these images are not enhanced, manipulated by hand or by a contemporary photo manipulation program or AI generation. Before we get into the nitty gritty of the images I will provide background as to how I came upon these images, and the flow of information. I was first made aware of these images after researching separate alien encounters for a post of mine (see that post here for further details regarding that) one of the sources used was "alieni in italia 1945-1995 50 anni di incontri ravvicinati". On page VIII towards the back of the book these images (or rather image as three were compressed into one section) as well as the following text appears https://preview.redd.it/le5wrt3rm60d1.jpg?width=806&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=39919dfcd089925de049eb66794003a5dab20573 "Vero alieno o scoop giornalistico? Ho evitato di inserire nel presente catalogo questo caso avvero singolare. Si tratte infatti di alcune foto )5_ scattate da un non meglio indentificato "professore universitario di pavia" nell'estate del 1986 e pubblicate da sette. il settimanale del Corriere della Sera. Si referiscono ad una presunta entita aliena che si sarebbe manifestata al professore in una situazione del tutto casuale. Non sono mancati pareri sfavorevoli expressi da parecchi ufologi. ( Foto tratte da: Sette n. 9/10 sette giorni illustrati dal Corriere della Sera, 5 marzo, 1988. Translated: "Real alien or journalistic scoop? I have avoided including in the present catalog this singular case. These are in fact some photos(5) taken by an unidentified "university professor from Pavia" in the summer of 1986 and published by seven. The weekly newspaper Corriere della Sera. They refer to an alleged alien entity that allegedly manifested itself to the professor in a completely random situation. There was no shortage of unfavorable opinions expressed by several ufologists. ( Photo taken from: Seven No. 9/10 seven days illustrated by Corriere della Sera, March 5, 1988. That was all the information provided within. (it should be noted that although this description mentions 5 photos, there are only these 3 provided within Moreno Tambellinis book.) These images captured my attention fairly quickly as I am fairly familiar with purported alien/supernatural photographs, so to find one I have never seen, and in such a quality which is general not present within other such photos as these, was more than enough to tip my curiosity in the direction of delving deeper. First attempt at finding further information regarding these photos, and this particular magazine issue ended in little success, though I was able to find what I, at the time, believed to be a correctly colorized image of this entity. See below. https://preview.redd.it/tc06rvxum60d1.png?width=341&format=png&auto=webp&s=141ee2128cdcd0894f57f999876ff380a4def235 Unassuming on some random blog that attributed a name to this entity while providing no further information regarding the image itself (as certain ufological circles are want to do). Not finding further information I attempted to find further information based off of this colorized image, but to no avail. Save for one source that used this image ( in a different colorized manner, slightly less yellow and oozing with potential, that being this image by Argentinian Ufologist Dante Franch. See below. https://preview.redd.it/39i2rdvxm60d1.png?width=280&format=png&auto=webp&s=14bf476ca33164db334bc4b835a52b349d66990d Finally, someone who might have a lead on this information! But no, once again this image is deceptively alluring as the contents of this book have absolutely nothing to do with the Sette report, but simply use its image to describe unsourced and unverified tales of the City of Erks (a wild dive on its own and may be deserving of its own post) and other entities that supposedly have a resemblance to this cover image. Upon further searches I came across this archived link with additional images some with closer to truth color, including the aforementioned first colorized image here https://web.archive.org/web/20080312200229/https://www.anomalia.org/perspectivas/fotosets/campo_cielo.htm as well as the additional references. The author of this blog post is Mexican Ufologist Luis Ruiz Noguez, notable for his skepticism and thorough investigation relating to this material, so it was a no-brainier to look into his research regarding this seeing as he had previously mentioned it here on his blogpost. So where better to look than his book "Extraterrestres ante las camaras" Volume X dealing specifically with italian encounters and purported alien photographs. But again, despite his previous notation in this blog, the contents of these images specifically are nowhere to be seen or mentioned within this book. Research stagnated for some time during the search process for the original source cited in Moreno Tambellinis book. I was able after five months (you have no idea how hard it was to find a copy) able to acquire a copy of this magazine and finally was able to determine that the previously assumed white coverall of this entities outfit has been a false notion. The following text is a translation of the pages within this issue of march 7th 1988 Sette: Corriere della Cera . 9/10, the original scans, as well as a translated text document of these pages can be found in the sources listed below. Important note: although these images are primary focus of this article, it does meander into thoughts on Whitley Striebers book "Communion" (which will be a source of contention that will be covered later in this post). But the translated post here is the relevant text to these images. "Just as we were editing a report on the UFO phenomenon that was supposed to appear on 7 at the same time as the television passage of Spielberg's film Close Encounters of the third kind, we came across a resounding surprise: the images published in these pages and on the cover of this issue. They were taken completely by chance, one summer evening in 1986, by a professor at the University of Pavia, above all suspicion and known for his balance, his intelligence and rationality, completely alien to the somewhat emphatic and vaguely bizarre world of the so-called "contactees": those people who say they have entered into a relationship with unknown entities from the cosmos." "He is a completely normal person who has always been skeptical of the reports of unidentified flying objects and is now also a testimony, erroneous to the idea that his name is related to the disturbing figure captured by his camera. The university lecturer has agreed to give us what he considers to be evidence of his shocking experience in exchange for absolute confidentiality" "What to make of these images? We can make a few assumptions. A) The author of the photos is a mystrifier. It is unlikely: too much resistance has opposed the publication of his document (which he has yielded for free to 7). In addition, he wishes to remain anonymous. A behavior that is certainly not that of those who want to speculate on a scooop, true or presumed. B) The author is the victim of a game. Someone made him take "fireflies for lanterns". A well-thought-out game, by true professionals. It is not unlikely, even if the professor is not a "contactee", one obsessed with extraterrestrials, that is, a man who could arouse "temptations" among those who know him. C) The photos really document something alien. A mysterious otherness has been captured by the professor's camera, who was the first to be surprised by this tangible presence, imprinted on the film that is absolutely different from a hallucination. What to say? What are we to think of images that forcefully re-propose the problem (or the dream, or the myth, or the nightmare) of the existence of other beings, of other civilizations that populate galaxies or dimensions unknown to us? Science continues to question these facts, but an answer is still a long way off. All experiences at the "edge of reality" are embarrassing. The line that divides science and mystery is still vague. Prudence, in these cases, is a must. And the desire not to appear is widespread among the witnesses. The professor from Pavia, who chose restriction, has an illustrious precedent." "These images, taken on a summer evening in 1986 by a professor at the University of Pavia, who asked to remain anonymous, are the subject of various hypotheses of interpretation in the text of the article. The reader is free to draw his own conclusions." Here are the direct scans of this entity as they appear in the magazine, scanned directly out of a physical copy of this magazine. (do note although these images are uploaded in different order I believe they may be sorted as such, I make no claim to the accuracy of this in terms of chronological order, but which is most aesthetically appeasing.) https://preview.redd.it/tp2rqzw9n60d1.png?width=520&format=png&auto=webp&s=5bef77464608273cc1e6cc1f5b30665c5040a5c2 https://preview.redd.it/vekj9dman60d1.png?width=385&format=png&auto=webp&s=ba133aa62862f89a1e361e21a93de19e9d549496 https://preview.redd.it/sve90i9bn60d1.png?width=388&format=png&auto=webp&s=36e737a33624530c85e48f99d9ffd2d7db04d9f5 https://preview.redd.it/03pcokzbn60d1.png?width=380&format=png&auto=webp&s=b8503bec04896be177ce5420daf0ee71482318a6 https://preview.redd.it/yeehoehcn60d1.png?width=379&format=png&auto=webp&s=d33d814521c2581d2cb3b5c830fa62c5bae5782e Now, while the article was very keen to post certain aspects of this, it was rather lacking, and it must be stated although the title of this issue, as well as the description in the article infer this is related to UFO's. There is no mention of an actual UFO or craft present within this encounter, or at the very least, this information was omitted from the article, and was potentially removed at the request of the professor in question, though that is speculation on my part. The following sections will deal with the author of this previous issue, as well as the two follow-up articles and their individual authors. There is more information present as the above text states, not from the previous issue, but from two separate follow-up articles that were saved and printed in the Italian Ufo magazine "UFO express no. 043." Link to the full untranslated issue here/UFO%20Express%20-%20No%20043.pdf). These separate addendums fully cover the images in question and are critical but not overly-so. The most important aspect to this is that the professor provided further information to Sette, primarily about what they were doing prior to this entities appearance, but also their means of photographic capture. {Page 1} UFO: Is this being from another world? read the scroll on the cover of 7 (No. 9/10) that we republish on this page. Hundreds of phone calls and letters arrived at the editorial office, and they continue to arrive after Mino Damato in his TV program Alla ricerca dell'arca (Sunday, March 27, Rai 3 8:30 p.m.) dealt with the same images, depicting a hypothetical alien photographed by a professor at the University of Pavia one summer evening in 1986. There are those who believe in this hypothetical alien and those who do not, but all of the readers who have phoned or written are bound to each other by the rejection of that question mark printed on the cover: each of them is persuaded to erase the hypothesis, to tear away the veil of the enigma. And they split into two equally intolerant parties, leaving no room for doubt. We have chosen two exemplary letters. The first letter comes from Brixen and is signed by Mr. Nicola De Paola (2 Clesia Street). He says “the alien is a tobogganist: typical are the tight suit the aerodynamic helmet, the face crushed by the transparent visor, the blurred colors and contours of the photos are due to the fact that they were taken from television, with the obj vo blurred or too close up and strange an alien with limbs, head, face and body identical to those of man; I too will be able to take photographs quite similar to those published; as a reader I feel mocked.” Others have certainly seen in the hypothetical alien: a surgeon, a nurse, an ice skater, an Icelandic firefighter, a Norwegian cryologist (sic), a KGB spy, a hockey player with his head bandaged; in short, some man in overalls or uniforms. No one has identified in the figures, despite the width of the pelvis, a woman or an androgynous. The second letter comes from Ferrara and is signed by Mr. Giovanni Mantovani (via Luigi Borsari 51). Says; When I saw the photographs I immediately thought: but look, it looks like the E.T. seen by R.M on September 2, 1987 while he was fishing on the bank of the Canal Bianco (RO). He felt an intense tingling, turned around and saw a strange individual: dark complexion, 2 meters tall, hair that looked like plastic, wearing a luminescent blue jumpsuit. The apparition lasted a few seconds.R.M. felt a chill, a feeling that was renewed at the sight of your photos... Only one remark can be made to the professor of Pavia: that of not having given the readers further clarifications about the close approach of the third type... Here are the further clarifications that the professor from Pavia has allowed us to give, although he is consumed by the fear of being uncovered and covered with ridicule. The photos were taken by a Nikon camera, with motor-drive, 55 mm lens. Micro, 3.5 aperture, shutter speed: 1/4 second Polachrome film, 40 Asa sensitivity. Shortly after the sun went down, the professor was completing some experiments on the optical perception of dogs (how does a dog see things in the world? Black and white? With what depth, in what perspective?). That alone is almost ridiculous. We were missing the hypothetical alien. A dog joke? Maybe. But the professor never solved the riddle. And dogs don't talk. ~ Paolo Pietroni {page caption} The hypothetical alien out of 7 has caused conflicting reactions. The photo was taken from a Nikon by a university lecturer while carrying out experiments on the visual perception of dogs https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paolo_Pietroni (information about this addendums author) {Page 2} Your E.T. seems to me to be a feminine being... Dear editor, I am writing to you in relation to the series of 5 photographs taken by a better identified professor of Pavia one summer evening in 1986 and which appeared in the supplement of the Corriere della Sera n. 9/10 Since I am not familiar with photographic technique, I have written down the shooting parameters communicated by you personally during Mino D'Amato's television program In Search of the Ark on March 27. Correct me if I'm wrong: Nikon camera body with motor, 5.5 mm focal length lens, aperture dia 3.5, exposure time 1/15 of a second. Certainly, with this adjustment, every little movement of the camera or of the photographed subject causes a blurred or rather blurred photograph. Probably, this whole story of the photos arose from the need of the Rizzoli Group to launch on the market the Italian version of the best American seller Communion by Ted Jacob, which deals, coincidentally, with the subject of extraterrestrials. This colossal business is also sponsored by the production of the film, which has been "posted" while waiting for the possible buyers of such a profitable product to be sufficiently sensitized... Having said this, I wish, through his kindness, to convey to the professor of Pavia my modest comments on his photos. Feminism aside, I confess that the first spontaneous observation I made on these photographs was to recognize without a shadow of a doubt a woman, or rather a female being; The conformation of the hips, the breasts, combined with the grace of the bowed pose with folded arms, unequivocally belonged to a woman. But let's get to the details. The suit - It appears so tight that it shows every little part of the body so as to give the impression of a "second skin"; It has light blue-green bands (as shown in the photo on the right on page 74) that are more evident around the neck, on the shoulders and on the arms. The hands - They appear covered by the sleeves and more elongated than ours (cover figure), dare I say w(bed. The head - Although it is more mobile, it clearly shows these elements: oval face with a slightly flattened nose, microphone with a light-colored support arm placed at the height of the left ear (photo on the right, page 74) The headset - It is completely different from any type currently built because it contains a transceiver module at the top for contact with some support organ (e.g. an operations center, or a cosmoplane, or another operator), similar to what happens in Italy when astronauts go out of their vehicle and maintain constant radio contact with the control center. The transceiver part can be seen both in the cover photo and on page 74, left and right, and is indicated by the protuberance on the top of the skull. This study was born well out of any venal or other interest, in fact I am not a ufologist, but a pilot in full flight activity and with command responsibilities; I have been a first-hand witness to the phenomenon commonly associated with the improper name of UFO Sure of the need to deal with the subject with more compatible methodologies than those promulgated by scientists and ufologists, I dedicate myself to the enhancement of aeronautical contactism, intending with this new term to redefine the sightings of military and civil pilots, aeronautical technicians, engineers, etc. who through direct experience with the phenomenon have acquired the conviction that we are not alone Only those who have had a direct impact with the phenomenon (the contactee) can provide a plausible image of themselves... everything else... They are only lucubrations born from mindsets that are not up-to-date with the present sotric moment on the one hand, and with the characteristics of the phenomenon on the other. {end of article caption} I forwarded his observations to the professor in Pavia, author of the photos depicting the hypothetical alien. Thank you for your interesting analysis. You are free to believe it or not, but the Rizzoli Communion book had an absolutely random presence in our service: we liked the design of the cover; the portrait of that E.T. and we thought of enriching the illustrations of the service. Roberto Doz (a fairly interesting individual on his own, air force colonel with his own UFO sighting) read more on that here As for the author of the original article. Their name is Nullo Cantaroni, and may be more well known by his wife Bice Cairati( Sveva Casati Modigiani), Nullo Cantaroni had a fairly successful journalistic career, dealing primarily in medicine as co-authorized by fellow science journalist Severina Cantaroni. He eventually succumbed to Parkinson's disease. I make mention of these authors, Roberto Doz (who has a very good reason to be interested in the topic as he had his own experience). As well as the other two as these are not the ramblings of some crazy pumping out their own versions of weekly world news, but were and still are highly credible and respected peoples, whom by their own association are taking the flak for posting this material to begin with. From here on out, this is going to be a further dive into the already presented material, some comparisons with other cases which have direct correlation with these images, as well as other information during my research that has not been touched on up until this point. In the first follow-up article there is mention of a show "Alla Ricera dell'arca (In search of the ARK)". With he show discussing the images posted here. I was able to confirm that this episode does exist, with the covered material, and is within the RAI archives (Italian TV network/station). However, they would not lend the episode out to a non-Italian citizen, or someone associated with a University, or media conglomeration. I mention this as there may be more material covered in this episode that was not provided in the main article and its follow-ups. If there are any Italian citizens, or peoples reading this who have the appropriate accreditation to acquire a copy of this episode I would ask for your cooperation in attempting to do so. If someone has a copy of this simply recorded off of an old VHS I implore you to make that available to all. Going back to the main article, the meandering to Communion is certainly off-putting, though I disagree with the previous mention that this was a hoax on the part of the publication to push Communion. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence after all (even though Carl Sagan never bothered with the evidence, side tangent: listen to J Allen Hynek talk about that here) But I believe these images were published in good faith on part of Nullo Cantaroni, his background and thorough career would make this unlikely. So as it figures there are three scenarios here that describe this scenario (in no particular order of likelihood) 1) these images are hoaxed by the publication to push communion 2) these images are hoaxed by the supposed professor 3) these images are legitimate and provide evidence of a non-earth based entity. Before I move on I'd like to mention that I did attempt to reach out to Corriere della Sera multiple times regarding this material but was never given a response. To round this off the images themselves. Humanoid obviously, female-appearing, now I say appearing because assuming this really is some unexpected entity, there is no guarantee that the physiology of this figure accurately represents its determination, and although this entity appears to have what we'd consider to be skin, that may only be a covering to another form or may be some type of robotic synthetic life-form designed specifically to mimic human appearances. What may be most interesting or most alarming depending on your perspective is this entities face appears to change between shots, and yet seemingly keeps the same body proportions. If you are of the opinion this is some type of hoax you could state this is an obvious inconsistency between shots. On the other hand, that is an obvious conclusion to make and showing differentiating faces would be a rather odd choice on the part of a hoaxer. This again could be part of the photographing process, as there is motion blur between some of these photos and it simply gives an appearance that things are changing. There are other features which must be touched upon, namely the clothing, but in one such photo, what appears to be some type of headgear wrapped around this entities face. To anyone with a passing knowledge of ufology and its associated lore would know, the favorite of any interstellar interloper is the tight formfitting bodysuit. Primarily described as blue, although other colors are often reported. But unlike most humanoid encounters described in the west, this entity seems to have a darker complexion about them. Now does that mean this does not fit in with established prior encounters? Not at all, for whatever reason the blonde-hair nordic is the most popular discussion topic when it comes to human-adjacent lifeforms, but in other places, and Italy especially, some of their most well know or most covered, feature entities with darker complexions. Case in point https://preview.redd.it/0s611i7hn60d1.jpg?width=884&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=cbc1472a0e49504d71a975ebaccb91639e592ed1 This encounter in 1978 Italy with a dark-skinned entity in a shimmering scaled suit. Or this description of a dark skinned entity with a similar described blue suit reported in 1987 Location. Villamarzana, Rome, Italy Date: September 2 1987 Time: 1700 Renzo Munari was fishing on the Bianco Canal when he noticed a strange object flying at a moderated speed over the river, as the object disappeared from sight he felt a strange prickling sensation in his body, resembling electrical static. Turning around he saw a very tall human-like figure staring intently at him. The figure was at least 2 meters in height, with orange hair and dark skin. He wore a luminous blue colored tight fitting coverall. On the left side of his chest there was a square orange colored “tag.” During the encounter the witness felt a cool wave of air and light headed. The figure apparently disappeared into the brush. Source: Archivio SUF, USOCAT by The Italian Center forUFO Studies (CISU) There is also this report from 1989 Russia Location. Salsk, Rostov region, Russia Date: August 13 1989 Time: 2300 Working at a cotton irrigation plant Vasiliy Ivanovich suddenly experienced total equipment failure without any apparent cause. While searching for the cause of the breakdown, the witness heard a loud voice, “He is searching for the cause”. Looking around he saw four humanoids standing close to him. One stood in the front, while the other three stood in the back. He described the humanoids as tall, with long dangling arms, with a large head, flattened on the top and wide at the temples. The humanoids are dark red or brown in color with large egg-shaped eyes and two holes instead of a nose. They have no lips, and thin strip instead of a mouth. They were wearing truncated shiny blue coveralls and footwear. The humanoid standing at the front of the others held a box in his hand and a soft pleasant voice seemed to emanate from the box. He held the box at stomach level. Ivanovich approached the humanoids and asked who they were; the reply was a question asking him if he wanted to go with them. At this point the witness saw a light at the edge of the nearby woods and a hovering object. The humanoids then floated slowly towards the craft and disappeared. Terrified the witness ran to the village to notify other witnesses but upon returning to the site the humanoids had already left. Source:UFOZONE Russia As for the headgear, there is a report from 1995 Italy of an entity not resembling this one in this post, but wearing a similarly described headpiece. Location: Ancona, Italy Date: February 3 1994, Time: 9:00am Six witnesses, including a Mr. Giulo observed a strange humanoid wandering around some nearby rocks. The humanoid was described as about 1 meter and a half in height, wearing a tight fitting black coverall that covered his whole body including a pair of very long feet. The face was elongated with two huge round eyes, with round black pupils. It appeared to be wearing earphones with a small thin protruding antenna. It seemed to stagger slowly and after about 10 minutes it rose up slowly and vertically into the air, quickly disappearing from sight Source: CISU Italy. There is also this case from Barisciano Italy 1978 in which an entity bearing a striking similar blue color to the outfit was seen, with an adorning white "cap" or hairpiece that resembled that of a cap. read the untranslated version of that encounter here/Notiziario%20UFO%20-%201984%2001-02%20-%20Vol%2018%20No%20102.pdf) https://preview.redd.it/gkgzwmvyp60d1.png?width=310&format=png&auto=webp&s=65238cf5324c0acfcc076966d141d0114eb89be5 Finally, lets get back to the person allegedly behind this whole spiel, the Professor. A claim such as this, where an entity appears in ones presence without any known means is a stark claim all on its own, to provide photos of such an encounter is another thing all together, but being as its an anonymous person, how can we gleam any credibility out of this? To put it in other words, is there enough information provided within the original article as well as the follow-up articles to speculate on a potential identity to who this man could have been? Emphatically yes, infact there is only one such individual who fits the criteria with the information provided, granted this information was given after the fact of the original articles publication. In the first article within UFO express that discusses this, we are told this person is running experiments relating to dogs (canine) eyesight, but the author was unsure whether or not this is a jest of some sort. I do not believe it is, in the secondary article it is again mentioned that this professor is working with canine eyesight, but in a caption on the second page it is emphasized this was "non-academic research". Now does that mean it was unrelated to their professional focus? No, it simply means this research was carried outside of official means. This leads me to who I believe the primary suspect is in terms of a potential identity, could there be other more accurate people? Perhaps. But this persons tenure and level of research within this subject and the timeframe of when they were working at the University of Pavia lines up perfectly with who this person could be. However, because of doxxing concerns, and that they initially requested complete anonymity from the publication I will not be directly naming their identity here. But I will heavily state that this person worked in the university of Pavia from 1985 in the zoology department and specifically with foxes and wolves. With this person having worked and published (into the present) works related to both of these fields. I have attempted to personally reach out to this professor both via email & telephone (their academic numbers, not personal) but have received no response. I would ask that if you do look into who this person is that you do not attempt to directly contact them as their lack of a response is response enough. What was the encounter like? How long did it go on for? Was there a conversation or was this a quick in and out? These questions and more are not answered here, and perhaps never will be unless someone; the professor, an associate, or anyone else, comes forward with more details we are left wondering and wanting more. There is of course much to be said about these images and the potential for further investigations, including the peculiar hands this entity seems to posses that does have a passing resemblance to other cases, but lest this drag on to long I will leave it here and attempt to answer any questions that I may be capable of giving insight on. Sources and resources used Archive link for translations and scans of original Corriere della Sera article https://archive.org/details/Paviaentity Magazine and other ufological material sources: https://files.afu.se/Downloads/?dir=./ Document scanner for afu and other documents/sites https://updb.app/ alieni in italia by Moreno Tambelini ImgOps for reverse image searching https://ufologie.patrickgross.org/sys/text.htm & Albert Rosales for their compilations of humanoid encounters. If you have had an encounter or know someone who has had an encounter similar to this or identical to this, do not hesitate to DM or message me with the details. |
2024.05.13 14:14 Ufonauter In 1986 an Italian professor working for the University of Pavia in Italy would have a face to face encounter with an unknown entity. But unlike so many other encounters, this professor was able to take 5 photos.
 | To begin with, I will state that this post was months in the making (mostly waiting and chasing false leads) and carries with it perhaps some answers, plenty of questions, and perhaps for some, a similarity to their own experiences. Special thanks to u/Neo-Rex as well as u/ebycon for their assistance in helping me find and rule out some areas of research. submitted by Ufonauter to aliens [link] [comments] Disclaimer: The following images and text are provided without photo manipulation on my end (besides simple cropping and scanning). There are going to be many references in this post to Italian media, magazines, as well as individual writers. This is by no means an endorsement, advertisement, or other form of ARG intended to sell, market, or persuade anyone to buy, rent, or procure any of the described materials. Because I know this is a new area of topic, and because the images provided are of an unusual nature, I will provide various sources to prove that these images are not enhanced, manipulated by hand or by a contemporary photo manipulation program or AI generation. Before we get into the nitty gritty of the images I will provide background as to how I came upon these images, and the flow of information. I was first made aware of these images after researching separate alien encounters for a post of mine (see that post here for further details regarding that) one of the sources used was "alieni in italia 1945-1995 50 anni di incontri ravvicinati". On page VIII towards the back of the book these images (or rather image as three were compressed into one section) as well as the following text appears https://preview.redd.it/1hnyv22bo60d1.jpg?width=806&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=09e5d51a28114e50ae3b1334c4aeda7109558444 "Vero alieno o scoop giornalistico? Ho evitato di inserire nel presente catalogo questo caso avvero singolare. Si tratte infatti di alcune foto )5_ scattate da un non meglio indentificato "professore universitario di pavia" nell'estate del 1986 e pubblicate da sette. il settimanale del Corriere della Sera. Si referiscono ad una presunta entita aliena che si sarebbe manifestata al professore in una situazione del tutto casuale. Non sono mancati pareri sfavorevoli expressi da parecchi ufologi. ( Foto tratte da: Sette n. 9/10 sette giorni illustrati dal Corriere della Sera, 5 marzo, 1988. Translated: "Real alien or journalistic scoop? I have avoided including in the present catalog this singular case. These are in fact some photos(5) taken by an unidentified "university professor from Pavia" in the summer of 1986 and published by seven. The weekly newspaper Corriere della Sera. They refer to an alleged alien entity that allegedly manifested itself to the professor in a completely random situation. There was no shortage of unfavorable opinions expressed by several ufologists. ( Photo taken from: Seven No. 9/10 seven days illustrated by Corriere della Sera, March 5, 1988. That was all the information provided within. (it should be noted that although this description mentions 5 photos, there are only these 3 provided within Moreno Tambellinis book.) These images captured my attention fairly quickly as I am fairly familiar with purported alien/supernatural photographs, so to find one I have never seen, and in such a quality which is general not present within other such photos as these, was more than enough to tip my curiosity in the direction of delving deeper. First attempt at finding further information regarding these photos, and this particular magazine issue ended in little success, though I was able to find what I, at the time, believed to be a correctly colorized image of this entity. See below. https://preview.redd.it/ntnngh1fo60d1.png?width=341&format=png&auto=webp&s=7685ab304637834f06c14c93b6158e23f8ed66a6 Unassuming on some random blog that attributed a name to this entity while providing no further information regarding the image itself (as certain ufological circles are want to do). Not finding further information I attempted to find further information based off of this colorized image, but to no avail. Save for one source that used this image ( in a different colorized manner, slightly less yellow and oozing with potential, that being this image by Argentinian Ufologist Dante Franch. See below. https://preview.redd.it/y99g6yhho60d1.png?width=280&format=png&auto=webp&s=a784d5d82998aab7784b0e0ff8507bf999b7e320 Finally, someone who might have a lead on this information! But no, once again this image is deceptively alluring as the contents of this book have absolutely nothing to do with the Sette report, but simply use its image to describe unsourced and unverified tales of the City of Erks (a wild dive on its own and may be deserving of its own post) and other entities that supposedly have a resemblance to this cover image. Upon further searches I came across this archived link with additional images some with closer to truth color, including the aforementioned first colorized image here https://web.archive.org/web/20080312200229/https://www.anomalia.org/perspectivas/fotosets/campo_cielo.htm as well as the additional references. The author of this blog post is Mexican Ufologist Luis Ruiz Noguez, notable for his skepticism and thorough investigation relating to this material, so it was a no-brainier to look into his research regarding this seeing as he had previously mentioned it here on his blogpost. So where better to look than his book "Extraterrestres ante las camaras" Volume X dealing specifically with italian encounters and purported alien photographs. But again, despite his previous notation in this blog, the contents of these images specifically are nowhere to be seen or mentioned within this book. Research stagnated for some time during the search process for the original source cited in Moreno Tambellinis book. I was able after five months (you have no idea how hard it was to find a copy) able to acquire a copy of this magazine and finally was able to determine that the previously assumed white coverall of this entities outfit has been a false notion. The following text is a translation of the pages within this issue of march 7th 1988 Sette: Corriere della Cera . 9/10, the original scans, as well as a translated text document of these pages can be found in the sources listed below. Important note: although these images are primary focus of this article, it does meander into thoughts on Whitley Striebers book "Communion" (which will be a source of contention that will be covered later in this post). But the translated post here is the relevant text to these images. "Just as we were editing a report on the UFO phenomenon that was supposed to appear on 7 at the same time as the television passage of Spielberg's film Close Encounters of the third kind, we came across a resounding surprise: the images published in these pages and on the cover of this issue. They were taken completely by chance, one summer evening in 1986, by a professor at the University of Pavia, above all suspicion and known for his balance, his intelligence and rationality, completely alien to the somewhat emphatic and vaguely bizarre world of the so-called "contactees": those people who say they have entered into a relationship with unknown entities from the cosmos." "He is a completely normal person who has always been skeptical of the reports of unidentified flying objects and is now also a testimony, erroneous to the idea that his name is related to the disturbing figure captured by his camera. The university lecturer has agreed to give us what he considers to be evidence of his shocking experience in exchange for absolute confidentiality" "What to make of these images? We can make a few assumptions. A) The author of the photos is a mystrifier. It is unlikely: too much resistance has opposed the publication of his document (which he has yielded for free to 7). In addition, he wishes to remain anonymous. A behavior that is certainly not that of those who want to speculate on a scooop, true or presumed. B) The author is the victim of a game. Someone made him take "fireflies for lanterns". A well-thought-out game, by true professionals. It is not unlikely, even if the professor is not a "contactee", one obsessed with extraterrestrials, that is, a man who could arouse "temptations" among those who know him. C) The photos really document something alien. A mysterious otherness has been captured by the professor's camera, who was the first to be surprised by this tangible presence, imprinted on the film that is absolutely different from a hallucination. What to say? What are we to think of images that forcefully re-propose the problem (or the dream, or the myth, or the nightmare) of the existence of other beings, of other civilizations that populate galaxies or dimensions unknown to us? Science continues to question these facts, but an answer is still a long way off. All experiences at the "edge of reality" are embarrassing. The line that divides science and mystery is still vague. Prudence, in these cases, is a must. And the desire not to appear is widespread among the witnesses. The professor from Pavia, who chose restriction, has an illustrious precedent." "These images, taken on a summer evening in 1986 by a professor at the University of Pavia, who asked to remain anonymous, are the subject of various hypotheses of interpretation in the text of the article. The reader is free to draw his own conclusions." Here are the direct scans of this entity as they appear in the magazine, scanned directly out of a physical copy of this magazine. (do note although these images are uploaded in different order I believe they may be sorted as such, I make no claim to the accuracy of this in terms of chronological order, but which is most aesthetically appeasing.) https://preview.redd.it/gkd3fj3oo60d1.png?width=520&format=png&auto=webp&s=4f338883f62abde93e6b1218b3191b13658dc32b https://preview.redd.it/7gc9l0uoo60d1.png?width=385&format=png&auto=webp&s=cc71696af8105b30f865affcb325b31655c17532 https://preview.redd.it/t0opnydpo60d1.png?width=388&format=png&auto=webp&s=da17154ba1e5f4943f0e38094d87819b63229d41 https://preview.redd.it/1bmptx1qo60d1.png?width=380&format=png&auto=webp&s=d25f5df93e493b58ed46d19b61119b539338972b https://preview.redd.it/qoaheyjqo60d1.png?width=379&format=png&auto=webp&s=6fd19b6d756df32c032ce84b2289437081695893 Now, while the article was very keen to post certain aspects of this, it was rather lacking, and it must be stated although the title of this issue, as well as the description in the article infer this is related to UFO's. There is no mention of an actual UFO or craft present within this encounter, or at the very least, this information was omitted from the article, and was potentially removed at the request of the professor in question, though that is speculation on my part. The following sections will deal with the author of this previous issue, as well as the two follow-up articles and their individual authors. There is more information present as the above text states, not from the previous issue, but from two separate follow-up articles that were saved and printed in the Italian Ufo magazine "UFO express no. 043." Link to the full untranslated issue here/UFO%20Express%20-%20No%20043.pdf). These separate addendums fully cover the images in question and are critical but not overly-so. The most important aspect to this is that the professor provided further information to Sette, primarily about what they were doing prior to this entities appearance, but also their means of photographic capture. {Page 1} UFO: Is this being from another world? read the scroll on the cover of 7 (No. 9/10) that we republish on this page. Hundreds of phone calls and letters arrived at the editorial office, and they continue to arrive after Mino Damato in his TV program Alla ricerca dell'arca (Sunday, March 27, Rai 3 8:30 p.m.) dealt with the same images, depicting a hypothetical alien photographed by a professor at the University of Pavia one summer evening in 1986. There are those who believe in this hypothetical alien and those who do not, but all of the readers who have phoned or written are bound to each other by the rejection of that question mark printed on the cover: each of them is persuaded to erase the hypothesis, to tear away the veil of the enigma. And they split into two equally intolerant parties, leaving no room for doubt. We have chosen two exemplary letters. The first letter comes from Brixen and is signed by Mr. Nicola De Paola (2 Clesia Street). He says “the alien is a tobogganist: typical are the tight suit the aerodynamic helmet, the face crushed by the transparent visor, the blurred colors and contours of the photos are due to the fact that they were taken from television, with the obj vo blurred or too close up and strange an alien with limbs, head, face and body identical to those of man; I too will be able to take photographs quite similar to those published; as a reader I feel mocked.” Others have certainly seen in the hypothetical alien: a surgeon, a nurse, an ice skater, an Icelandic firefighter, a Norwegian cryologist (sic), a KGB spy, a hockey player with his head bandaged; in short, some man in overalls or uniforms. No one has identified in the figures, despite the width of the pelvis, a woman or an androgynous. The second letter comes from Ferrara and is signed by Mr. Giovanni Mantovani (via Luigi Borsari 51). Says; When I saw the photographs I immediately thought: but look, it looks like the E.T. seen by R.M on September 2, 1987 while he was fishing on the bank of the Canal Bianco (RO). He felt an intense tingling, turned around and saw a strange individual: dark complexion, 2 meters tall, hair that looked like plastic, wearing a luminescent blue jumpsuit. The apparition lasted a few seconds.R.M. felt a chill, a feeling that was renewed at the sight of your photos... Only one remark can be made to the professor of Pavia: that of not having given the readers further clarifications about the close approach of the third type... Here are the further clarifications that the professor from Pavia has allowed us to give, although he is consumed by the fear of being uncovered and covered with ridicule. The photos were taken by a Nikon camera, with motor-drive, 55 mm lens. Micro, 3.5 aperture, shutter speed: 1/4 second Polachrome film, 40 Asa sensitivity. Shortly after the sun went down, the professor was completing some experiments on the optical perception of dogs (how does a dog see things in the world? Black and white? With what depth, in what perspective?). That alone is almost ridiculous. We were missing the hypothetical alien. A dog joke? Maybe. But the professor never solved the riddle. And dogs don't talk. ~ Paolo Pietroni {page caption} The hypothetical alien out of 7 has caused conflicting reactions. The photo was taken from a Nikon by a university lecturer while carrying out experiments on the visual perception of dogs https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paolo_Pietroni (information about this addendums author) {Page 2} Your E.T. seems to me to be a feminine being... Dear editor, I am writing to you in relation to the series of 5 photographs taken by a better identified professor of Pavia one summer evening in 1986 and which appeared in the supplement of the Corriere della Sera n. 9/10 Since I am not familiar with photographic technique, I have written down the shooting parameters communicated by you personally during Mino D'Amato's television program In Search of the Ark on March 27. Correct me if I'm wrong: Nikon camera body with motor, 5.5 mm focal length lens, aperture dia 3.5, exposure time 1/15 of a second. Certainly, with this adjustment, every little movement of the camera or of the photographed subject causes a blurred or rather blurred photograph. Probably, this whole story of the photos arose from the need of the Rizzoli Group to launch on the market the Italian version of the best American seller Communion by Ted Jacob, which deals, coincidentally, with the subject of extraterrestrials. This colossal business is also sponsored by the production of the film, which has been "posted" while waiting for the possible buyers of such a profitable product to be sufficiently sensitized... Having said this, I wish, through his kindness, to convey to the professor of Pavia my modest comments on his photos. Feminism aside, I confess that the first spontaneous observation I made on these photographs was to recognize without a shadow of a doubt a woman, or rather a female being; The conformation of the hips, the breasts, combined with the grace of the bowed pose with folded arms, unequivocally belonged to a woman. But let's get to the details. The suit - It appears so tight that it shows every little part of the body so as to give the impression of a "second skin"; It has light blue-green bands (as shown in the photo on the right on page 74) that are more evident around the neck, on the shoulders and on the arms. The hands - They appear covered by the sleeves and more elongated than ours (cover figure), dare I say w(bed. The head - Although it is more mobile, it clearly shows these elements: oval face with a slightly flattened nose, microphone with a light-colored support arm placed at the height of the left ear (photo on the right, page 74) The headset - It is completely different from any type currently built because it contains a transceiver module at the top for contact with some support organ (e.g. an operations center, or a cosmoplane, or another operator), similar to what happens in Italy when astronauts go out of their vehicle and maintain constant radio contact with the control center. The transceiver part can be seen both in the cover photo and on page 74, left and right, and is indicated by the protuberance on the top of the skull. This study was born well out of any venal or other interest, in fact I am not a ufologist, but a pilot in full flight activity and with command responsibilities; I have been a first-hand witness to the phenomenon commonly associated with the improper name of UFO Sure of the need to deal with the subject with more compatible methodologies than those promulgated by scientists and ufologists, I dedicate myself to the enhancement of aeronautical contactism, intending with this new term to redefine the sightings of military and civil pilots, aeronautical technicians, engineers, etc. who through direct experience with the phenomenon have acquired the conviction that we are not alone Only those who have had a direct impact with the phenomenon (the contactee) can provide a plausible image of themselves... everything else... They are only lucubrations born from mindsets that are not up-to-date with the present sotric moment on the one hand, and with the characteristics of the phenomenon on the other. {end of article caption} I forwarded his observations to the professor in Pavia, author of the photos depicting the hypothetical alien. Thank you for your interesting analysis. You are free to believe it or not, but the Rizzoli Communion book had an absolutely random presence in our service: we liked the design of the cover; the portrait of that E.T. and we thought of enriching the illustrations of the service. Roberto Doz (a fairly interesting individual on his own, air force colonel with his own UFO sighting) read more on that here As for the author of the original article. Their name is Nullo Cantaroni, and may be more well known by his wife Bice Cairati( Sveva Casati Modigiani), Nullo Cantaroni had a fairly successful journalistic career, dealing primarily in medicine as co-authorized by fellow science journalist Severina Cantaroni. He eventually succumbed to Parkinson's disease. I make mention of these authors, Roberto Doz (who has a very good reason to be interested in the topic as he had his own experience). As well as the other two as these are not the ramblings of some crazy pumping out their own versions of weekly world news, but were and still are highly credible and respected peoples, whom by their own association are taking the flak for posting this material to begin with. From here on out, this is going to be a further dive into the already presented material, some comparisons with other cases which have direct correlation with these images, as well as other information during my research that has not been touched on up until this point. In the first follow-up article there is mention of a show "Alla Ricera dell'arca (In search of the ARK)". With he show discussing the images posted here. I was able to confirm that this episode does exist, with the covered material, and is within the RAI archives (Italian TV network/station). However, they would not lend the episode out to a non-Italian citizen, or someone associated with a University, or media conglomeration. I mention this as there may be more material covered in this episode that was not provided in the main article and its follow-ups. If there are any Italian citizens, or peoples reading this who have the appropriate accreditation to acquire a copy of this episode I would ask for your cooperation in attempting to do so. If someone has a copy of this simply recorded off of an old VHS I implore you to make that available to all. Going back to the main article, the meandering to Communion is certainly off-putting, though I disagree with the previous mention that this was a hoax on the part of the publication to push Communion. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence after all (even though Carl Sagan never bothered with the evidence, side tangent: listen to J Allen Hynek talk about that here) But I believe these images were published in good faith on part of Nullo Cantaroni, his background and thorough career would make this unlikely. So as it figures there are three scenarios here that describe this scenario (in no particular order of likelihood) 1) these images are hoaxed by the publication to push communion 2) these images are hoaxed by the supposed professor 3) these images are legitimate and provide evidence of a non-earth based entity. Before I move on I'd like to mention that I did attempt to reach out to Corriere della Sera multiple times regarding this material but was never given a response. To round this off the images themselves. Humanoid obviously, female-appearing, now I say appearing because assuming this really is some unexpected entity, there is no guarantee that the physiology of this figure accurately represents its determination, and although this entity appears to have what we'd consider to be skin, that may only be a covering to another form or may be some type of robotic synthetic life-form designed specifically to mimic human appearances. What may be most interesting or most alarming depending on your perspective is this entities face appears to change between shots, and yet seemingly keeps the same body proportions. If you are of the opinion this is some type of hoax you could state this is an obvious inconsistency between shots. On the other hand, that is an obvious conclusion to make and showing differentiating faces would be a rather odd choice on the part of a hoaxer. This again could be part of the photographing process, as there is motion blur between some of these photos and it simply gives an appearance that things are changing. There are other features which must be touched upon, namely the clothing, but in one such photo, what appears to be some type of headgear wrapped around this entities face. To anyone with a passing knowledge of ufology and its associated lore would know, the favorite of any interstellar interloper is the tight formfitting bodysuit. Primarily described as blue, although other colors are often reported. But unlike most humanoid encounters described in the west, this entity seems to have a darker complexion about them. Now does that mean this does not fit in with established prior encounters? Not at all, for whatever reason the blonde-hair nordic is the most popular discussion topic when it comes to human-adjacent lifeforms, but in other places, and Italy especially, some of their most well know or most covered, feature entities with darker complexions. Case in point https://preview.redd.it/6e3ymfuxo60d1.jpg?width=884&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=c77b73123544adddbf17bacb780841cd81a61a6b This encounter in 1978 Italy with a dark-skinned entity in a shimmering scaled suit. Or this description of a dark skinned entity with a similar described blue suit reported in 1987 Location. Villamarzana, Rome, Italy Date: September 2 1987 Time: 1700 Renzo Munari was fishing on the Bianco Canal when he noticed a strange object flying at a moderated speed over the river, as the object disappeared from sight he felt a strange prickling sensation in his body, resembling electrical static. Turning around he saw a very tall human-like figure staring intently at him. The figure was at least 2 meters in height, with orange hair and dark skin. He wore a luminous blue colored tight fitting coverall. On the left side of his chest there was a square orange colored “tag.” During the encounter the witness felt a cool wave of air and light headed. The figure apparently disappeared into the brush. Source: Archivio SUF, USOCAT by The Italian Center forUFO Studies (CISU) There is also this report from 1989 Russia Location. Salsk, Rostov region, Russia Date: August 13 1989 Time: 2300 Working at a cotton irrigation plant Vasiliy Ivanovich suddenly experienced total equipment failure without any apparent cause. While searching for the cause of the breakdown, the witness heard a loud voice, “He is searching for the cause”. Looking around he saw four humanoids standing close to him. One stood in the front, while the other three stood in the back. He described the humanoids as tall, with long dangling arms, with a large head, flattened on the top and wide at the temples. The humanoids are dark red or brown in color with large egg-shaped eyes and two holes instead of a nose. They have no lips, and thin strip instead of a mouth. They were wearing truncated shiny blue coveralls and footwear. The humanoid standing at the front of the others held a box in his hand and a soft pleasant voice seemed to emanate from the box. He held the box at stomach level. Ivanovich approached the humanoids and asked who they were; the reply was a question asking him if he wanted to go with them. At this point the witness saw a light at the edge of the nearby woods and a hovering object. The humanoids then floated slowly towards the craft and disappeared. Terrified the witness ran to the village to notify other witnesses but upon returning to the site the humanoids had already left. Source:UFOZONE Russia As for the headgear, there is a report from 1995 Italy of an entity not resembling this one in this post, but wearing a similarly described headpiece. Location: Ancona, Italy Date: February 3 1994, Time: 9:00am Six witnesses, including a Mr. Giulo observed a strange humanoid wandering around some nearby rocks. The humanoid was described as about 1 meter and a half in height, wearing a tight fitting black coverall that covered his whole body including a pair of very long feet. The face was elongated with two huge round eyes, with round black pupils. It appeared to be wearing earphones with a small thin protruding antenna. It seemed to stagger slowly and after about 10 minutes it rose up slowly and vertically into the air, quickly disappearing from sight Source: CISU Italy. There is also this case from Barisciano Italy 1978 in which an entity bearing a striking similar blue color to the outfit was seen, with an adorning white "cap" or hairpiece that resembled that of a cap. read the untranslated version of that encounter here/Notiziario%20UFO%20-%201984%2001-02%20-%20Vol%2018%20No%20102.pdf) https://preview.redd.it/21kjohdup60d1.png?width=310&format=png&auto=webp&s=177c364d88aa666573433fc2510a448ad4847398 Finally, lets get back to the person allegedly behind this whole spiel, the Professor. A claim such as this, where an entity appears in ones presence without any known means is a stark claim all on its own, to provide photos of such an encounter is another thing all together, but being as its an anonymous person, how can we gleam any credibility out of this? To put it in other words, is there enough information provided within the original article as well as the follow-up articles to speculate on a potential identity to who this man could have been? Emphatically yes, infact there is only one such individual who fits the criteria with the information provided, granted this information was given after the fact of the original articles publication. In the first article within UFO express that discusses this, we are told this person is running experiments relating to dogs (canine) eyesight, but the author was unsure whether or not this is a jest of some sort. I do not believe it is, in the secondary article it is again mentioned that this professor is working with canine eyesight, but in a caption on the second page it is emphasized this was "non-academic research". Now does that mean it was unrelated to their professional focus? No, it simply means this research was carried outside of official means. This leads me to who I believe the primary suspect is in terms of a potential identity, could there be other more accurate people? Perhaps. But this persons tenure and level of research within this subject and the timeframe of when they were working at the University of Pavia lines up perfectly with who this person could be. However, because of doxxing concerns, and that they initially requested complete anonymity from the publication I will not be directly naming their identity here. But I will heavily state that this person worked in the university of Pavia from 1985 in the zoology department and specifically with foxes and wolves. With this person having worked and published (into the present) works related to both of these fields. I have attempted to personally reach out to this professor both via email & telephone (their academic numbers, not personal) but have received no response. I would ask that if you do look into who this person is that you do not attempt to directly contact them as their lack of a response is response enough. What was the encounter like? How long did it go on for? Was there a conversation or was this a quick in and out? These questions and more are not answered here, and perhaps never will be unless someone; the professor, an associate, or anyone else, comes forward with more details we are left wondering and wanting more. Sources and resources used Archive link for translations and scans of original Corriere della Sera article https://archive.org/details/Paviaentity Magazine and other ufological material sources: https://files.afu.se/Downloads/?dir=./ Document scanner for afu and other documents/sites https://updb.app/ alieni in italia by Moreno Tambelini ImgOps for reverse image searching https://ufologie.patrickgross.org/sys/text.htm & Albert Rosales for their compilations of humanoid encounters. If you have had an encounter or know someone who has had an encounter similar to this or identical to this, do not hesitate to DM or message me with the details. |
2024.05.13 13:53 maximusaemilius Empyrean Iris: 2-181 Confession and conflict (by Charlie Star)
FYI, this is a story COLLECTION. Lots of standalones technically. So, you can basically start to read at any chapter, no pre-read of the other chapters needed technically (other than maybe getting better descriptions of characters than: Adam Vir=human, Krill=antlike alien, Sunny=tall alien, Conn=telepathic alien). The numbers are (mostly) only for organization of posts and continuity.
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800 u/BakeGullible9975 u/Didnotseemecomein and u/medium_jock
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
The plot thickens!
Previous First Next
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
The Rundi pilot maneuvered his ship around a chunk of space debris, cutting low as he watched the slow and leisurely path of the rocket as it began on its trajectory towards the moon. Radar was almost impossible to use in the deadly debris field these humans called an orbit, so it was up to his eyes to make out any incoming hostiles.
They circled low and then wide around the slow-moving rocket, keeping their distance while also keeping an eye out. It was easy enough, as the drone was covered in cameras and sensors, which allowed them to see from almost every angle. A human might have been better at this, but right now they were the only ones they could trust.
[…]
A green folder rested atop the lectern as the President of the UN gave her halting, and to the chairwoman it seemed, unenthusiastic speech. The humans down below didn't seem to notice, making her wonder if she was simply imagining things, though a part of her said that was not the case.
She had been suspicious of the UN president from the very beginning, the very beginning when she was given power after the first launch of the enterprise, and they had been forced to deal with her during treaty negotiations. At every step there seemed to be some sort of obstacle, something wrong, some reason that the humans could just not accept. It went on behind closed doors and in quiet whispered conversations. But luckily for them, people like Adam Vir and Admiral Kelly had been there to smooth things over between the two factions.
The chairwoman knew better than most, that there were only a few humans in the galaxy holding everything together.
And the last thing she wanted was bad relations, or to go to war with this species. It would be a nightmare.
She shifted in her seat as she listened to the speech. The valley below her still had traces of smoke let off by burning so much fossil fuel at once. She imagined that such a stunt wasn't entirely great for the atmosphere of the planet, though as far as she knew humans tended to run on sustainable clean energy these days.
The Chairwoman stepped down from the little podium and into the back where she could not be seen, leaning in so she could hear the words whispered from her assistant,
"The drones are deployed, and so far we have not met any resistance.”
She nodded slowly,
"Good work, keep an eye out."
[…]
The UN president felt her fingers digging into the soft paper of the green folder. The red one was lying discarded under the lectern, and she was having trouble concentrating, forcing herself to remember that this wasn't over. She glanced into the crowd, expecting to see that strange white face staring up at her from the throng of people, but there was nothing.
Had she seen it as in her imagination, or did she really see an alien face staring back at her?
She glanced upwards, towards where the rocket had vanished, only half paying attention to the practiced words that dribbled from her mouth. She finished her speech and the people below clapped and cheered heartily, though she didn't much feel like clapping with them.
She turned on her heel and walked down to the back of the stage to where her entourage was waiting for her. Admiral Massie was sitting on one end and Admiral Kelly was sitting at the other, the two of them doing their damndest to ignore each other at all costs.
She sat down next to Admiral Massie, arms crossed over her chest as he leaned in to speak with her.
"That didn't exactly go as planned."
He muttered softly.
"It will if your men are ready."
She snapped back, her palms cold and sweaty.
Admiral Massie nodded,
"Of course, they should come out when they reach the densest part of the debris field, that way we can make it look like some unexpected collision."
He glanced towards the lectern,
"So I would keep a hold of that red folder of yours."
On the other set of chairs, Admiral Kelly was giving them a sidelong glance. Everyone knew that she was in Admiral Vir's camp, licking his boots at every opportunity. It would be within their best interest to keep silent when she was around.
The UN president leaned back in her seat,
"You should be on your way, Admiral. We will have time to talk later."
He stood and nodded slowly,
"Of course madame president."
He turned to walk away, catching the eye of Admiral Kelly as he stepped past. The two of them didn't much like each other, though as the head of the OGI (Office of Galactic intelligence) Admiral Massie had enough pull to keep Kelly in her place.
The UN president turned her head away. Not wanting to draw attention to herself.
[…]
Admiral Kelly glanced over at the UN president as Admiral Massie passed by. There was something about those two spending time together that she didn't like. Granted it was more than likely the two of them were having some sweaty, wrinkly liaisons out of hours which she didn't really want to think about, but if that was the case then he could easily be pressing his planetary isolationist views off on her.
Kelly did not think highly of the UN presidency. Right now, it seemed mostly concerned with power and political favors with the people, rather than doing the right thing. Plus, she found the president herself to be superficially charming, but easily manipulated by the wrong people. Fear mongering worked the best on her, which is why she worried about Massie and his effect on her to begin with.
She found herself digging her nails into her palms as she thought about it.
”Please help us.”
Admiral Kelly shot up in her seat looking around as she tried to find the source of the noise, or the voice. She turned in her seat expecting to find someone whispering in her ear, but there was nothing. She pressed at the implant along the side of her neck wondering if someone had called her and she just hadn't noticed?
”Look up.”
Jolted again, lifting her eyes towards the sky and the burning sun. She threw up a hand to block her vision, and as she did, she thought she saw a shape floating there against the backdrop of the sun.
She squinted hard trying to make it out but was having trouble.
”Now look into the crowd.”
She turned her head down, still not sure where the sound could be coming from, but as she looked into the crowd, she saw a strange sight. One of the people was wearing a dark hoodie, and was turned away from the direction which the rest of the crowd was facing. Their hood was pulled low, but ever so subtly, they lifted their head to reveal a porcelain white face, with large dark eyes.
Admiral Kelly went very still as she stared at the starborn.
“Not a starborn, a halfbreed. My name is Eris, I am Admiral Vir's... daughter”
Oh... oh, yes she had heard about the starborn hybrid from one of his reports.
"What do you want."
She mouthed quietly.
“We need your help, the UN president is planning to have Admiral Vir Killed, and Admiral Massie is on his way to make the order, please, you have to do something."
Admiral Kelly jolted to her feet, very quickly glancing at the UN president in shock and horror before she was able to capture her emotions. The UN president looked up to her sudden movement, and Admiral Kelly had to fight to keep her face neutral as the woman looked up at her.
"Are you feeling well Admiral?”
She could feel the sweat dripping down her face and the nape of her neck, but she remained as calm as possible as she took a deep breath,
"I... Am suddenly very dizzy. I think it's the heat."
"You should sit down, have someone bring you some water."
The woman said, her voice calm and clear as if she hadn't just ordered the murder of Adam Vir.
"No I... I think I need to walk for a minute and find some shade. You will excuse me?"
The UN president shrugged and turned back to staring at the sky, giving Admiral Kelly time to step forward and hurry after General Massi's retreating figure.
[…]
General Massie stepped into mission control and walked down the blank empty corridors. No one was here, they were all either in the control room or out celebrating the successful launch. It had been a sight to see, two-thousand-year-old technology working for one more time, but personally General Massie saw it as completely obsolete and a useless waste of government capital.
That was something they could have been using to help fortify earth's defense nexus. Out of all the useless things Admiral Vir had supported, at least he had agreed that they needed SOME form of defense against extraterrestrial attack.
General Massie made a face…
Though he wouldn't doubt Admiral Vir would have been totally fine leaving their planet with its pants down in order to let those Xenos fuck them over.
Everyone and their dog knew that Admiral Vir preferred alien cock over his own kind.
The thought made Admiral Massie cringe.
It was a well-kept secret among the UNSC, but the man wasn't nearly as secretive as he liked to think he was. Rumors of his infatuation with the stupid blue beetle alien had reached command almost as soon as it began. The only reason they didn't allow it to leak was that it would make the UNSC look bad to the rest of earth.
And Jupiter how he hated that man.
Stupid, juvenile egotistical xeno fucker!
Today was the day all of that came to an end!
He cut right, just before the doors to mission control and walked down two more hallways, finally opening a small side door into, what might have looked from the outside, like an equipment closet. He stepped over a mop and bucket and sat down at an old console, which he fired up with the flick of a button.
"Flight 1 this is Earth 1 over."
"Roger earth one this if slight one, in position over."
He turned on the screen, giving himself time to look the radar over, as twenty dots appeared on screen. Those were twenty Thunderhawks they had slowly appropriated over the intervening year.
With a place as big as the universe to cover, it was pretty easy to lose a few jets in the shuffle. He could see them now, illuminated as little green dots on his screen, hiding in the debris.
"Flight one this is Earth one, Operation “After Apollo” is go. Now remember boys and girls, make it look like an accident. Over."
*"Roger that Earth one. Over and out."
[…]
"You TRAITOR!"
Admiral Massie spun in his seat, eyes wide and wild as Admiral Kelly stood in the doorway. She could feel her skin growing hot with absolute rage as she stalked forward over the open floor. In one hand she held up the small recording device Conn had handed to her outside the building, and on it held proof of this man's order. On the screen behind him twenty little dots burst to life.
She was too late.
The man slowly got to his feet as Kelly aimed her handgun at him, her grip steady, her aim true.
"Call off your dogs."
She snarled,
Admiral Massie slowly lifted his hands, before slowly leaning forward in his seat towards the intercom button. She stepped forward, watching him intently as he leaned over the console pressing down on the button.
"Flight one this is earth one..."
Her eyes flickered up to the screen waiting to see them pause.
But before she knew what was happening an elbow came up striking her on the hand and causing the gun to spin out of her grip. Admiral Massie turned and tackled her to the floor, his nearly 300 lb body crushing her to the floor.
The wind was knocked out of her and she gasped as he struggled to pin her to the ground.
Her hat had flown off and her bun became undone as he drew back a fist to punch her. She was able to block it with her forearms as he raged and went for her face. The blows rained down on her from above with an onslaught of power she wasn't expecting but should have.
She took another gasping breath, and then with a surge of adrenaline she bucked, throwing him forward where she grabbed one of his arms and bucked again, forcing him to his side and onto his back. Still gripping his arm, she threw herself sideways, throwing her legs over his chest and struggling with his arm to pull it flat.
He kicked and grabbed at her legs with his other hand painfully gripping her calves as his nails dug into her skin and drew blood. The pain was incredible, but she finally got his arm down tucked tight to her chest, her legs across his chest, and then she jerked her hips sharply upward.
Admiral Massie screamed as his elbow snapped backwards.
She let go of him and scrambled towards the console, but at the last moment he grabbed her by the foot and hauled her back to the ground, one arm hanging limp and useless at his side. He clawed at her with one hand, and she rolled onto her back, kicking up at his face with her boot catching him square in the chin.
He staggered back as she crawled to the console and reached to adjust the frequency, ready to call in lunar support.
There was a sharp click behind her, and she froze, turning in her seat to find Admiral Massie standing behind her gun held in his good hand.
Blood leaked from his nose and down onto the front of his uniform, staining the grey fabric red,
"Nice try, Kelly."
[…]
Donovan Red waited, spinning slowly as he watched the progress of the distant rocket. Inside his helmet his breathing was cold and calm as, ranging all around him, his other men and women waited as well. Their ships had been outfitted with proper weapons as they had ridden here in the cargo hold of the Omen. The group of them weren't soldiers or trained fighter pilots, so he didn't imagine this would be easy, but it was going to have to do.
"Red, this is Apollo 11 do you copy?”
"Yeah Cinderella, I copy."
"See anything?"
"Nope not a..."
He paused,
"Wait..."
There was something, something he thought he saw detach itself from another piece of space junk,
"Hold that thought Apollo."
He detached from his own bit of space junk and inched forward.
A thunderhawk? What would one of those be doing here?
It began to accelerate.
He accelerated after it.
Up ahead the rocket was growing larger and larger in his view.
“Thunderhawk has made lock.”
The cool female voice said from his console.
"Oh shit, Admiral r-“
He didn't have time to finish his sentence as a small ball-like-silver ship came pelting down from nowhere, blasting the Thunderhawk in the wing with a sharp burst of laser fire. It's wing exploded and it went careening in the opposite direction as the silver ball whizzed past.
"What the fuck!?"
He turned to fly after it, but was stopped.
"Red, this is Wendy, stand down that's a Rundi UAV."
"Rundi? I thought it was the Rundi we were worried about!?”
He called in confusion.
"Yeah, but that thunderhawk had locked in on Apollo 11. It looks like the Rundi are helping."
He grunted and cursed under his breath,
"Boys and girls, if you see a silver ball stand down, those are on our side."
Just then another Thunderhawk shot over his head. He cursed again and pulled himself into a sharp upward turn cutting after the Thunderhawk and locking on. His lock cut off their attempts to shoot down the rocket, and they were forced to dive under as he followed after. He followed, spinning right and left around debris as the Thunderhawk attempted to escape.
It cut upward, just in time for a bright pink jet with graffiti words on the side to shoot out of nowhere.
The Thunderhawk exploded in a cloud of debris as Wendy roared by.
"Good shot, girl!”
He said over his radio.
"Thanks boss. Now let’s give them hell!"
[…]
Admiral Vir floated before the console, knuckles white and unable to do anything. A silent explosion flashed in his vision to the right as quickly as it had begun. Richards and Chavez started with wide eyes and dropped mouths.
"Admiral what the hell is going on!?”
Adam took a deep breath,
"It seems as if we are under attack."
The two of them exchanged glances,
"From who? What the fuck!?!"
Adam turned where he stood to look at the two of them,
"I am sorry I got you two into this mess, but the isolationists have been gunning for me for a few months now, and it seems as if now things have come to a head.”
"What are we going to do!"
"Radio Houston."
Chavez hurried to do as ordered, but when she did, they heard only static,
"Shit... Something is jamming our coms."
Adam took a deep breath,
"Well I guess all we have is Donovan to protect us. Lets' hope they do it right."
[…]
Admiral Massie laughed,
"You're as dumb as you look Kelly."
She stood, slowly wiping blood from her cheek as she turned to look down the barrel of the gun. Her own gun.
She didn't generally tend to agree with Massie, but this time he did have a point. Surprisingly though she was very calm,
"You aren't going to get away with this."
She glanced over to where the little silver recording device lay in the shadows under one of the chairs.
Massie was too amped to notice.
"Doesn't matter. I will have done my duty to my planet and my people, saving them from alien lovers like you and that bastard Vir."
"Whose Idea was this, the President or yours?"
She held her hands out to the side.
"Do you think that dipshit was smart enough to come up with a plan like mine?"
Kelly raised an eyebrow,
"Is it wise to incriminate your friends along with you?"
"That bitch? Heh, I could care less. And if I am going down, she is going down with me. The president may think it was all her idea, but it was mine all along, she was following my orders, whether she believes it or not, and once Adam Vir and YOU are dead, then it doesn't matter what we did, because diplomatic relations will dissolve, and it will be all over."
He lifted the gun to her face,
"Goodbye Kelly."
She remained very still as the shadow fell over him from behind,
"May I say one last thing?”
He paused.
"Turn around."
"Very funny!”
He lifted the gun again and pulled the trigger.
There was a sharp crack and thud as metal hit metal. Kelly flinched and held up her hands, but opened her eye after a moment as no pain came.
Admiral Massie lay on the floor face down.
Kelly reached down quickly to grab her gun, looking up to where Sunny was standing in the doorway holding her pearlescent white spear. Behind her floated the starborn Conn and the hybrid.
She took a deep breath,
"Great timing you three.”
Sunny nodded,
"Anytime."
Admiral Kelly turned and lunged for the comms, switching the frequency to the lunar station only to find she couldn't get through,
"Damn it."
She cursed, turning to look at Sunny and the others,
"I was too late, the ships have already been deployed."
She paused and looked down, grabbing the recording device from off the floor tossing it to the hybrid who caught it with some difficulty,
"Run that to one of the media outlets, convince them it is important and leak it as soon as you can. We don't want her to have time to cover her own ass."
Eris nodded and shot off in the other direction.
Sunny knelt down to help her restrain Admiral Massie.
Just then the sound of feet came thundering up the hall and they looked up to see the Chairwoman of the GA and her assistants skid around a corner. Sunny's eyes narrowed as she crouched low leveling her spear.
"Did you catch him?"
The Chairwoman asked,
"No thanks to you."
Sunny snarled, but the chairwoman waved her off,
"I lost contact with my drones, but they should be out helping to protect Admiral Vir. I am sorry I couldn't do more, but it was all I could do not to show my hand too early."
Admiral Kelly stood slowly,
"You knew about this?"
The charwoman shook her head,
"Not this specifically, but I have been trying to find the source of the assassination attempts on Admiral Vir's life. I've had discreet escorts on him for the past few months while I tried getting in contact with my people in the criminal underworld and I called the hit on him with those pirates, knowing who Captain Kell was, hoping that he could get more information out of the pirates that I could."
Sunny stared at her rage flickering across her face,
"You called a hit on him!"
The charwoman did not seem perturbed,
"Those pirates couldn't have... How do the humans say... Hit their way out of a paper bag. I have been attempting to come in contact with the leader of the anti-alliance for the past few months. I have been trying to convince them I am on their side, and that was part of my ruse, as well as knowing Admiral Vir was captain Kell. During my investigation it became clear that someone within the UN was involved though I couldn't have said who."
"And why should we believe you aren't just covering your own ass?”
The chairwoman hissed,
”Do you really think I want to make an enemy out of the strongest species in the galaxy!? Not on your life! I am not stupid. Besides, I owe Admiral Vir my life. I admit I have done some irreparable things in order to keep the alliance going, but those moves were calculated, and Vir was always protected.”
[…]
One of the silver UAV's exploded and Red had to dodge to the side to avoid the flying debris. He cut right and then left keeping as fast as he could possibly go as he cut up through the chunks of metal and locked onto the back of a Thunderhawk. There was a sharp click and then a silent explosion which he rolled out of the way to avoid. He had sent one of his men off to make contact with earths forces for backup.
They were good, but these men and women were made for combat, and despite their best work only four out of twenty of them had been destroyed, and their numbers were dwindling fast. He cut right before one of the Thunderhawk’s, forcing it to turn away from the rocket and cut down in another direction. He could only imagine the fear of those inside the rocket as they watched helplessly at the fight raging on around them.
He spun down and under, cutting off another Thunderhawk coming in the opposite direction.
There was no way they were going to keep up with this for long.
Their only chance was earths forces reacting quickly.
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Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author
Thanks for reading! As you saw in the title, this is a cross posted story written by starrfallknightrise and I'll just upload some of it here for you guys, if you are interested and want to read ahead, the original story-collection can be found on tumblr or wattpad to read for free. (link above this text under "OC:..." ) It is the Empyrean Iris story collection by starfallknightrise. Also, if you want to know more about the story collection i made an intro post about it, so feel free to check that out to see what other great characters to look forward to! (Link also above this text). I have no affiliations to the author; just thought I’d share some of the great stories you might enjoy a lot!
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.
submitted by maximusaemilius to HFY [link] [comments]
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800 u/BakeGullible9975 u/Didnotseemecomein and u/medium_jock
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
The plot thickens!
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
They circled low and then wide around the slow-moving rocket, keeping their distance while also keeping an eye out. It was easy enough, as the drone was covered in cameras and sensors, which allowed them to see from almost every angle. A human might have been better at this, but right now they were the only ones they could trust.
A green folder rested atop the lectern as the President of the UN gave her halting, and to the chairwoman it seemed, unenthusiastic speech. The humans down below didn't seem to notice, making her wonder if she was simply imagining things, though a part of her said that was not the case.
She had been suspicious of the UN president from the very beginning, the very beginning when she was given power after the first launch of the enterprise, and they had been forced to deal with her during treaty negotiations. At every step there seemed to be some sort of obstacle, something wrong, some reason that the humans could just not accept. It went on behind closed doors and in quiet whispered conversations. But luckily for them, people like Adam Vir and Admiral Kelly had been there to smooth things over between the two factions.
The chairwoman knew better than most, that there were only a few humans in the galaxy holding everything together.
And the last thing she wanted was bad relations, or to go to war with this species. It would be a nightmare.
She shifted in her seat as she listened to the speech. The valley below her still had traces of smoke let off by burning so much fossil fuel at once. She imagined that such a stunt wasn't entirely great for the atmosphere of the planet, though as far as she knew humans tended to run on sustainable clean energy these days.
The Chairwoman stepped down from the little podium and into the back where she could not be seen, leaning in so she could hear the words whispered from her assistant,
"The drones are deployed, and so far we have not met any resistance.”
She nodded slowly,
"Good work, keep an eye out."
The UN president felt her fingers digging into the soft paper of the green folder. The red one was lying discarded under the lectern, and she was having trouble concentrating, forcing herself to remember that this wasn't over. She glanced into the crowd, expecting to see that strange white face staring up at her from the throng of people, but there was nothing.
Had she seen it as in her imagination, or did she really see an alien face staring back at her?
She glanced upwards, towards where the rocket had vanished, only half paying attention to the practiced words that dribbled from her mouth. She finished her speech and the people below clapped and cheered heartily, though she didn't much feel like clapping with them.
She turned on her heel and walked down to the back of the stage to where her entourage was waiting for her. Admiral Massie was sitting on one end and Admiral Kelly was sitting at the other, the two of them doing their damndest to ignore each other at all costs.
She sat down next to Admiral Massie, arms crossed over her chest as he leaned in to speak with her.
"That didn't exactly go as planned."
He muttered softly.
"It will if your men are ready."
She snapped back, her palms cold and sweaty.
Admiral Massie nodded,
"Of course, they should come out when they reach the densest part of the debris field, that way we can make it look like some unexpected collision."
He glanced towards the lectern,
"So I would keep a hold of that red folder of yours."
On the other set of chairs, Admiral Kelly was giving them a sidelong glance. Everyone knew that she was in Admiral Vir's camp, licking his boots at every opportunity. It would be within their best interest to keep silent when she was around.
The UN president leaned back in her seat,
"You should be on your way, Admiral. We will have time to talk later."
He stood and nodded slowly,
"Of course madame president."
He turned to walk away, catching the eye of Admiral Kelly as he stepped past. The two of them didn't much like each other, though as the head of the OGI (Office of Galactic intelligence) Admiral Massie had enough pull to keep Kelly in her place.
The UN president turned her head away. Not wanting to draw attention to herself.
Admiral Kelly glanced over at the UN president as Admiral Massie passed by. There was something about those two spending time together that she didn't like. Granted it was more than likely the two of them were having some sweaty, wrinkly liaisons out of hours which she didn't really want to think about, but if that was the case then he could easily be pressing his planetary isolationist views off on her.
Kelly did not think highly of the UN presidency. Right now, it seemed mostly concerned with power and political favors with the people, rather than doing the right thing. Plus, she found the president herself to be superficially charming, but easily manipulated by the wrong people. Fear mongering worked the best on her, which is why she worried about Massie and his effect on her to begin with.
She found herself digging her nails into her palms as she thought about it.
Admiral Kelly shot up in her seat looking around as she tried to find the source of the noise, or the voice. She turned in her seat expecting to find someone whispering in her ear, but there was nothing. She pressed at the implant along the side of her neck wondering if someone had called her and she just hadn't noticed?
Jolted again, lifting her eyes towards the sky and the burning sun. She threw up a hand to block her vision, and as she did, she thought she saw a shape floating there against the backdrop of the sun.
She squinted hard trying to make it out but was having trouble.
She turned her head down, still not sure where the sound could be coming from, but as she looked into the crowd, she saw a strange sight. One of the people was wearing a dark hoodie, and was turned away from the direction which the rest of the crowd was facing. Their hood was pulled low, but ever so subtly, they lifted their head to reveal a porcelain white face, with large dark eyes.
Admiral Kelly went very still as she stared at the starborn.
Oh... oh, yes she had heard about the starborn hybrid from one of his reports.
"What do you want."
She mouthed quietly.
Admiral Kelly jolted to her feet, very quickly glancing at the UN president in shock and horror before she was able to capture her emotions. The UN president looked up to her sudden movement, and Admiral Kelly had to fight to keep her face neutral as the woman looked up at her.
"Are you feeling well Admiral?”
She could feel the sweat dripping down her face and the nape of her neck, but she remained as calm as possible as she took a deep breath,
"I... Am suddenly very dizzy. I think it's the heat."
"You should sit down, have someone bring you some water."
The woman said, her voice calm and clear as if she hadn't just ordered the murder of Adam Vir.
"No I... I think I need to walk for a minute and find some shade. You will excuse me?"
The UN president shrugged and turned back to staring at the sky, giving Admiral Kelly time to step forward and hurry after General Massi's retreating figure.
General Massie stepped into mission control and walked down the blank empty corridors. No one was here, they were all either in the control room or out celebrating the successful launch. It had been a sight to see, two-thousand-year-old technology working for one more time, but personally General Massie saw it as completely obsolete and a useless waste of government capital.
That was something they could have been using to help fortify earth's defense nexus. Out of all the useless things Admiral Vir had supported, at least he had agreed that they needed SOME form of defense against extraterrestrial attack.
General Massie made a face…
Though he wouldn't doubt Admiral Vir would have been totally fine leaving their planet with its pants down in order to let those Xenos fuck them over.
Everyone and their dog knew that Admiral Vir preferred alien cock over his own kind.
The thought made Admiral Massie cringe.
It was a well-kept secret among the UNSC, but the man wasn't nearly as secretive as he liked to think he was. Rumors of his infatuation with the stupid blue beetle alien had reached command almost as soon as it began. The only reason they didn't allow it to leak was that it would make the UNSC look bad to the rest of earth.
And Jupiter how he hated that man.
Stupid, juvenile egotistical xeno fucker!
Today was the day all of that came to an end!
He cut right, just before the doors to mission control and walked down two more hallways, finally opening a small side door into, what might have looked from the outside, like an equipment closet. He stepped over a mop and bucket and sat down at an old console, which he fired up with the flick of a button.
"Flight 1 this is Earth 1 over."
"Roger earth one this if slight one, in position over."
He turned on the screen, giving himself time to look the radar over, as twenty dots appeared on screen. Those were twenty Thunderhawks they had slowly appropriated over the intervening year.
With a place as big as the universe to cover, it was pretty easy to lose a few jets in the shuffle. He could see them now, illuminated as little green dots on his screen, hiding in the debris.
"Flight one this is Earth one, Operation “After Apollo” is go. Now remember boys and girls, make it look like an accident. Over."
*"Roger that Earth one. Over and out."
"You TRAITOR!"
Admiral Massie spun in his seat, eyes wide and wild as Admiral Kelly stood in the doorway. She could feel her skin growing hot with absolute rage as she stalked forward over the open floor. In one hand she held up the small recording device Conn had handed to her outside the building, and on it held proof of this man's order. On the screen behind him twenty little dots burst to life.
She was too late.
The man slowly got to his feet as Kelly aimed her handgun at him, her grip steady, her aim true.
"Call off your dogs."
She snarled,
Admiral Massie slowly lifted his hands, before slowly leaning forward in his seat towards the intercom button. She stepped forward, watching him intently as he leaned over the console pressing down on the button.
"Flight one this is earth one..."
Her eyes flickered up to the screen waiting to see them pause.
But before she knew what was happening an elbow came up striking her on the hand and causing the gun to spin out of her grip. Admiral Massie turned and tackled her to the floor, his nearly 300 lb body crushing her to the floor.
The wind was knocked out of her and she gasped as he struggled to pin her to the ground.
Her hat had flown off and her bun became undone as he drew back a fist to punch her. She was able to block it with her forearms as he raged and went for her face. The blows rained down on her from above with an onslaught of power she wasn't expecting but should have.
She took another gasping breath, and then with a surge of adrenaline she bucked, throwing him forward where she grabbed one of his arms and bucked again, forcing him to his side and onto his back. Still gripping his arm, she threw herself sideways, throwing her legs over his chest and struggling with his arm to pull it flat.
He kicked and grabbed at her legs with his other hand painfully gripping her calves as his nails dug into her skin and drew blood. The pain was incredible, but she finally got his arm down tucked tight to her chest, her legs across his chest, and then she jerked her hips sharply upward.
Admiral Massie screamed as his elbow snapped backwards.
She let go of him and scrambled towards the console, but at the last moment he grabbed her by the foot and hauled her back to the ground, one arm hanging limp and useless at his side. He clawed at her with one hand, and she rolled onto her back, kicking up at his face with her boot catching him square in the chin.
He staggered back as she crawled to the console and reached to adjust the frequency, ready to call in lunar support.
There was a sharp click behind her, and she froze, turning in her seat to find Admiral Massie standing behind her gun held in his good hand.
Blood leaked from his nose and down onto the front of his uniform, staining the grey fabric red,
"Nice try, Kelly."
Donovan Red waited, spinning slowly as he watched the progress of the distant rocket. Inside his helmet his breathing was cold and calm as, ranging all around him, his other men and women waited as well. Their ships had been outfitted with proper weapons as they had ridden here in the cargo hold of the Omen. The group of them weren't soldiers or trained fighter pilots, so he didn't imagine this would be easy, but it was going to have to do.
"Red, this is Apollo 11 do you copy?”
"Yeah Cinderella, I copy."
"See anything?"
"Nope not a..."
He paused,
"Wait..."
There was something, something he thought he saw detach itself from another piece of space junk,
"Hold that thought Apollo."
He detached from his own bit of space junk and inched forward.
A thunderhawk? What would one of those be doing here?
It began to accelerate.
He accelerated after it.
Up ahead the rocket was growing larger and larger in his view.
“Thunderhawk has made lock.”
The cool female voice said from his console.
"Oh shit, Admiral r-“
He didn't have time to finish his sentence as a small ball-like-silver ship came pelting down from nowhere, blasting the Thunderhawk in the wing with a sharp burst of laser fire. It's wing exploded and it went careening in the opposite direction as the silver ball whizzed past.
"What the fuck!?"
He turned to fly after it, but was stopped.
"Red, this is Wendy, stand down that's a Rundi UAV."
"Rundi? I thought it was the Rundi we were worried about!?”
He called in confusion.
"Yeah, but that thunderhawk had locked in on Apollo 11. It looks like the Rundi are helping."
He grunted and cursed under his breath,
"Boys and girls, if you see a silver ball stand down, those are on our side."
Just then another Thunderhawk shot over his head. He cursed again and pulled himself into a sharp upward turn cutting after the Thunderhawk and locking on. His lock cut off their attempts to shoot down the rocket, and they were forced to dive under as he followed after. He followed, spinning right and left around debris as the Thunderhawk attempted to escape.
It cut upward, just in time for a bright pink jet with graffiti words on the side to shoot out of nowhere.
The Thunderhawk exploded in a cloud of debris as Wendy roared by.
"Good shot, girl!”
He said over his radio.
"Thanks boss. Now let’s give them hell!"
Admiral Vir floated before the console, knuckles white and unable to do anything. A silent explosion flashed in his vision to the right as quickly as it had begun. Richards and Chavez started with wide eyes and dropped mouths.
"Admiral what the hell is going on!?”
Adam took a deep breath,
"It seems as if we are under attack."
The two of them exchanged glances,
"From who? What the fuck!?!"
Adam turned where he stood to look at the two of them,
"I am sorry I got you two into this mess, but the isolationists have been gunning for me for a few months now, and it seems as if now things have come to a head.”
"What are we going to do!"
"Radio Houston."
Chavez hurried to do as ordered, but when she did, they heard only static,
"Shit... Something is jamming our coms."
Adam took a deep breath,
"Well I guess all we have is Donovan to protect us. Lets' hope they do it right."
Admiral Massie laughed,
"You're as dumb as you look Kelly."
She stood, slowly wiping blood from her cheek as she turned to look down the barrel of the gun. Her own gun.
She didn't generally tend to agree with Massie, but this time he did have a point. Surprisingly though she was very calm,
"You aren't going to get away with this."
She glanced over to where the little silver recording device lay in the shadows under one of the chairs.
Massie was too amped to notice.
"Doesn't matter. I will have done my duty to my planet and my people, saving them from alien lovers like you and that bastard Vir."
"Whose Idea was this, the President or yours?"
She held her hands out to the side.
"Do you think that dipshit was smart enough to come up with a plan like mine?"
Kelly raised an eyebrow,
"Is it wise to incriminate your friends along with you?"
"That bitch? Heh, I could care less. And if I am going down, she is going down with me. The president may think it was all her idea, but it was mine all along, she was following my orders, whether she believes it or not, and once Adam Vir and YOU are dead, then it doesn't matter what we did, because diplomatic relations will dissolve, and it will be all over."
He lifted the gun to her face,
"Goodbye Kelly."
She remained very still as the shadow fell over him from behind,
"May I say one last thing?”
He paused.
"Turn around."
"Very funny!”
He lifted the gun again and pulled the trigger.
There was a sharp crack and thud as metal hit metal. Kelly flinched and held up her hands, but opened her eye after a moment as no pain came.
Admiral Massie lay on the floor face down.
Kelly reached down quickly to grab her gun, looking up to where Sunny was standing in the doorway holding her pearlescent white spear. Behind her floated the starborn Conn and the hybrid.
She took a deep breath,
"Great timing you three.”
Sunny nodded,
"Anytime."
Admiral Kelly turned and lunged for the comms, switching the frequency to the lunar station only to find she couldn't get through,
"Damn it."
She cursed, turning to look at Sunny and the others,
"I was too late, the ships have already been deployed."
She paused and looked down, grabbing the recording device from off the floor tossing it to the hybrid who caught it with some difficulty,
"Run that to one of the media outlets, convince them it is important and leak it as soon as you can. We don't want her to have time to cover her own ass."
Eris nodded and shot off in the other direction.
Sunny knelt down to help her restrain Admiral Massie.
Just then the sound of feet came thundering up the hall and they looked up to see the Chairwoman of the GA and her assistants skid around a corner. Sunny's eyes narrowed as she crouched low leveling her spear.
"Did you catch him?"
The Chairwoman asked,
"No thanks to you."
Sunny snarled, but the chairwoman waved her off,
"I lost contact with my drones, but they should be out helping to protect Admiral Vir. I am sorry I couldn't do more, but it was all I could do not to show my hand too early."
Admiral Kelly stood slowly,
"You knew about this?"
The charwoman shook her head,
"Not this specifically, but I have been trying to find the source of the assassination attempts on Admiral Vir's life. I've had discreet escorts on him for the past few months while I tried getting in contact with my people in the criminal underworld and I called the hit on him with those pirates, knowing who Captain Kell was, hoping that he could get more information out of the pirates that I could."
Sunny stared at her rage flickering across her face,
"You called a hit on him!"
The charwoman did not seem perturbed,
"Those pirates couldn't have... How do the humans say... Hit their way out of a paper bag. I have been attempting to come in contact with the leader of the anti-alliance for the past few months. I have been trying to convince them I am on their side, and that was part of my ruse, as well as knowing Admiral Vir was captain Kell. During my investigation it became clear that someone within the UN was involved though I couldn't have said who."
"And why should we believe you aren't just covering your own ass?”
The chairwoman hissed,
”Do you really think I want to make an enemy out of the strongest species in the galaxy!? Not on your life! I am not stupid. Besides, I owe Admiral Vir my life. I admit I have done some irreparable things in order to keep the alliance going, but those moves were calculated, and Vir was always protected.”
One of the silver UAV's exploded and Red had to dodge to the side to avoid the flying debris. He cut right and then left keeping as fast as he could possibly go as he cut up through the chunks of metal and locked onto the back of a Thunderhawk. There was a sharp click and then a silent explosion which he rolled out of the way to avoid. He had sent one of his men off to make contact with earths forces for backup.
They were good, but these men and women were made for combat, and despite their best work only four out of twenty of them had been destroyed, and their numbers were dwindling fast. He cut right before one of the Thunderhawk’s, forcing it to turn away from the rocket and cut down in another direction. He could only imagine the fear of those inside the rocket as they watched helplessly at the fight raging on around them.
He spun down and under, cutting off another Thunderhawk coming in the opposite direction.
There was no way they were going to keep up with this for long.
Their only chance was earths forces reacting quickly.
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.
2024.05.13 12:07 Acceptable_Egg5560 Of Giants and Journalists [50]
Thank you u/SpacePaladin15 for this universe!
And many thanks to u/TheManwithaNoPlan for being a full co-writer on this project!
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(Welcome to the Orion Arm Grand University Archival Browser!)
(Please Select a Date: [OCT 31 2136])
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Archived Closed Circuit Security Video - Establishment: Exterminator’s Office - Dawn Creek Division - Date Recorded (ST): OCT 31, 2136 - Timeframe (ST): 11:37 - 11:45
Dozens of people sit in the meeting room, staring intently at a screen. It freezes when Nikonus reaches out a tentacle to slap down Cilany’s broadcasting camera. The feed cuts and leaves the meeting room staring at nothing. There is no noise for a moment as everybody looks at everyone else. The body languages of all in the room are tense in response to the information the broadcast had just provided them. This peace does not last long.
In the corner of the room, one black-suited Exterminator stands and attempts to raise their flamer. The perpetrator appears to be Venlil. Many other members of the room, particularly those of species mentioned in the broadcast, shrink away. Another Venlil rises from their seat and attempts to push the weapon’s nozzle down. They attempt to reason with the instigator. “Mafchi! What are you doing?? Put that thing away now!”
“Are you kidding?” The armed Venlil, Mafchi, responds. “We finally know why we’ve set up all those camps! It’s to corral all the predators into one place and purge them from the world! No wonder so many have tried to cozy up to the humans, predatory taint has been inundating us from between our eyes this whole time! Even here, in this very room!” Mafchi makes a sweeping gesture across the room. Exterminators who belong to omnivorous species shrink, except for one.
“What are you talking about, Mafchi??” A Tilfish officer lifts themselves from their thorax and points at Mafchi. “This is as much news to us as it is to you! Do you think that I, that any of us, knew about this?? I didn’t, that’s for damn sure! Now put down the brahking flamer and let us get scanned like all the others we’ve collected!” The screen comes back to life with the face of a Zurulian, but the focus is no longer on it.
“What, so you all can falsify yet more brain scans? That’s probably how you all have managed to keep yourselves hidden! Of course, how could I have not seen it before?? You! You’re all in cahoots with the Humans and Arxur! Making us tainted enough to where we willing turn ourselves over to be eaten! The humans they- they were just a test! You can’t hide your intentions anymore, vile predator scum!!” Mafchi attempts to raise their flamer again, but is once more stopped by the Venlil by their side.
The pair scuffle as they wrestle over the weapon. The rest of the crowd starts to murmur and move. Some Venlil and other herbivorous species distance themselves from their omnivorous companions. Some begin to apply their masks. A gap starts to form.
“Mafchi, that’s enough! You’re talking completely crazy! Drop the flamer and come with u-” The other Venlil is cut off by an elbow impacting their lower jaw. Their teeth audibly clack together before they fall to the ground. The situation rapidly worsens as many Exterminators grab their arms, pointing their flamers at one another. Omnivorous species point at herbivorous species, but several of the herbivores also join the side with Tilfish and Gojid. The gap grows wider as even more silver and black suited exterminators zip their masks over their heads.
“STOP!” A Kolshian stands from their seat and rushes into the middle of the fighting. They still have their mask hanging behind their head, their face fully visible. They hold their tentacles out to their sides in an attempt to keep hostilities from rising further. “Please, this doesn’t have to end in bloodshed! This is upsetting news, I know that for certain, but this is not the way to resolve it! We can’t just panic into madness and just start killing people! Mafchi, Iltivik, lower your weapons now!” Their tone is commanding, and for a brief moment, both parties obey. However, that is short lived.
“... Why are you saying this, Nhilasi?” Mafchi asks, leveling their weapon at the Kolshian, Nhilasi. “As a matter of fact, why don’t you tell us just how long you knew about all this?”
Nhilasi appears taken aback and her body language becomes far more animated as the situation devolves. “Me?? How could I have known? I just learned about this now!!”
The body language of the people on Mafchi’s side shifts. Tails lash in skepticism and hostility. “You think we’ll buy that for a second? It’s been through you that the predatorshit High Magister has been giving us orders! They had to have known about this before us, and that means you. And- and you’re a Kolshian! Nikonus said what the Kolshians did, it was your species that’s responsible for doing all- all this and then covering it up! It’s your fault that we’re so immolated by taint, you and your whole spehking species!!”
Nhilasi attempts to reciprocate, but is cut off by Mafchi yelling to all the others in the room. “Exterminators! This is clear and distinct evidence of predator taint on a scale that we could not have imagined before! If you have any sense of duty left, you’ll help me subdue these predatory infiltrators and purge this district- nay, this planet of taint! Once! AND FOR ALL!” A solid majority of the herbivores raise their paws in solidarity. The omnivores and sympathetic herbivores are outnumbered at 2 to 1, which proves disastrous once Mafchi speaks again. “SEIZE THEM!!”
The meeting room descends into chaos at a moment’s notice, as every hostile officer goes after and attempts to subdue an omnivore or sympathetic herbivore. The camera’s microphone peaks multiple times during the chaos, in which the hostile attackers appear to be winning. Yet suddenly a group of three Venlil and two Gojid burst from the fray and stumble out of the room, the running out of sight. Over the sounds of distress and anger coming from the room, Mafchi’s voice can be heard as they speak into a comlink.
“Attention all True Exterminators, capture the predatory impostors in your midst and meet the rest of us out front. We will burn this building to the ground to wipe the taint from its very foundation! Our traitorous High Magister seeks to have us merely scan and release the predatory influence? We shall not let him! We will burn every last predator and sympathizer from the face of this district! From the face of this very planet!! We shall do what we have so long been incapable of now that we are freed from our false comrades! For the glory of the Federation! FOR THE GOOD OF THE HERD!!”
They pant as they deactivate their comlink and look at the terrified mass of omnivores and herbivores crowded against the corner of the room. Among them are the Venlil who attempted to stop Mafchi, Iltivik the Tilfish officer, and Nhilasi. The latter struggles against her restraints, her face contorted with anger at Mafchi. “You can’t do this! You’ll be facilitating a slaughter the likes of which can only be compared to the Arxur! Please, Mafchi, don’t do this. Let us all free and talk!”
Mafchi looks at Nhilasi and stops moving. Other screams and shouts can be heard faintly through the walls. They kneel down next to the group of restrained officers, their tail wagging gleefully. “Your predatory deception won’t work on us anymore. All of you will meet the ends your kinds should have seen hundreds of years ago. We will fix the Federation’s mistakes and finally clear the galaxy of predators once and for all! Starting. Right. Here.” There is venom in their voice as they bring their monologue to a close. They motion for the “True Exterminators” to follow them out the door, locking it behind them as they leave.
There is not much movement in the following minutes. The primary actions caught on tape are crying and pleading to be let go. Some hang their heads and others scream out in desperation. After a few minutes pass, Nhilasi grunts and manages to wiggle her tentacles out of their restraints. Her success is met with more pleas and sounds for her to help them. Once she undoes her leg restraints, she starts trying to free everyone else as well. “I know, I know! Damn it, I should’ve known that those new transfers would be nothing but trouble. If I meet that spehkbrain bird Estela again, I’m gonna-” She takes in a deep breath as she unlocks the restraints on a frightened Gojid officer. “Nope, I’m going to firmly scold her, that’s what I’ll do. Yep.”
She works on freeing others restraints, who in turn aid in her effort. Before long, all the officers are freed and nervously conversing amongst themselves. Among the murmurs are mentions of “maybe we are dangerous” and “what if we suddenly want meat?” These conversations are interrupted by Nhilasi, who stands on one of the desks. “Everyone, please listen to me!”
The voices die down and attention falls on her. She takes another breath before continuing. “I-I know that things seem bleak. Believe me, I had no idea this was what we were preparing for, but I don’t think that your species' past deserves for you to get burned! I was born and raised on Venlil Prime, and I have known many people from the races mentioned by Nikonus! In fact, I know a fair few here in this very room! You have dedicated your lives to protecting the weak of the herd, and nothing in your genetic past can change that commitment! I have no intention of you dying here today! We can take them! Come on!”
Nhilasi hops off the desk and rushes to the door, using a keycard to unlock it and hold it open for the rest of the room. They start to filter out at varying paces, but do eventually vacate the room. The room is empty for 92 seconds before screaming can be heard from somewhere else in the building. Immediately following this, a bright flash engulfs the camera lens and the feed goes dead. The error code is consistent with that of electrical interruption.
(Specified Media Concluded.)
(Watch Another? [Y])
(Searching for Similar Media…2 Found.)
(Playing…)
{Oh, oh, we need to check on Sol-Vah next! Things are bound to happen with her!}
{Isn’t that the reason we should look?}
<…Damn you for weaponizing my curiosity.>
(Playback Paused.)
(Command: [minimzeprogram])
(Are you sure? [Y])
…
{-Welcome To: Terra Technologies Transcription Hub!-}
{-Choose Service: (Transcription Playback)-}
{-Restart From Last Playback Point? Y/(N)-}
{-[USERID-11229KMD]: procViewHist -}
{-Retrieving Transcription Viewing History…-}
{-List Retrieved - Select Desired Subject: (Sol-Vah)-}
{-Restart From Last Playback Point? (Y)/N-}
{-Playing…-}
Memory Transcription Subject: Sol-Vah, Gojid Citizen. Date [Standardized Human Time] October 31st, 2136
As I laid on the bed, I started to get concerned. It shouldn’t have taken Orhew this long to get the Strayu out of the forge given that he wouldn’t need to use protection to retrieve it. I tried to push my worries to the back of my mind, but I was ultimately unsuccessful in my endeavors. Furthermore, I could hear voices coming from the central room, likely from the holovision. Is he watching something?
Unable to contain my curiosity, I managed to hop down from the bed and make my way towards the door. My steps were unsteady due to the pleasure Orhew had bestowed upon me during our mating, but I was able to push through. As I placed my paw on the door, I heard something drop to the ground, the definitive sounds of other people talking echoing through Orhew’s abode. I had no idea what was going on, so with a moment’s hesitation, I slid open the door.
The previously muffled voices roared to life as I heard what sounded like a male Gojid speak through the screen. “No. You’re lying,” the Gojid said, the holoscreen showing him on his hands and knees as he panted heavily. He looked to be in immense pain, something which I couldn’t quite understand as he was unscathed. Orhew was standing still, both eyes affixed to the screen with a Strayu knife in his left hand and the loaf we had made fallen on the ground.
…What’s going on?
I decided to watch silently as g gthe scene continued. “I am not. See, Cilany? It’s cruel.” Another voice piped up from the screen and the shot rapidly changed to a familiar face. Is that… Chief Nikonus? How are we getting a feed from Federation space? The camera shook slightly as the recorder’s voice, Cilany I presumed, came from the screen in turn. “I don’t know what to say. This is a lot at once.”
As the camera panned back to find the Gojid completely curled up on the ground sobbing, I grew more and more concerned. What was this? Why was Orhew watching it? What’s a lot to take in at once?? My focus darted between the screen and Orhew, who was starting to shake. I could hear his heavy breathing even from across the room, and I wanted to go and comfort him from whatever this w-
“Now, you see why it’s important to protect these secrets. People like the Gojids can live in peace from their past. We’ve made it possible for them to walk among us, without threatening stability. We saved them.”
…What?
“What you did is wrong. You’ve been conducting genetic engineering, on innocent species, at…I don’t even know how large a scale. Your actions are going to kill us all, between the Arxur and the humans!”
Genetic engineering? Saved us? What…what does that…
“You haven’t learned a thing here. If you publish any of this, I’ll shoot it down as a wild fabrication. There’s no proof. Nobody would believe you.” Nikonus sneered at Cilany and whoever the Gojid was, the camera quickly panning down to him before Cliany chuckled darkly. “They don’t have to believe me. You just told everyone yourself.”
Nikonus’s eyes bulged from his head and he started to shout something, but my attention was drawn away once I realized that Orhew was no longer facing the screen. He was facing me, directly. Both of his eyes stared at me, sending chills down my spines in a way not even Humans could muster. What’s going on?? What was Nikonus talking about?!
“Orhew, wh-” I started to ask, but the [second] I took a step towards him, he leveled the knife he was holding directly at me. What- why- he- this- “Orhew, w-what’s going on? Why was Nikonus on the HV?? W-Why are you holding a knife at me?!” I can barely breathe, oh Protector what’s happening??
He was silent, scanning me up and down as his body shook uncharacteristically. I had never seen him like this before, and it was scaring me. After an agonizingly long and silent moment, he finally spoke. “is it true?”
“W-What?” I stammered, barely able to hear his voice over my racing heart. I heard strange noises coming from outside, but my focus was entirely on him. “Is what true? Orhew, what was that on the screen? Please, tell me!”
His ears wavered slightly at my admission of fear, but that moment of hesitation was followed by a fiery anger the likes of which I’ve never seen from him before burning in his eyes. He bared his teeth at me and violently pointed at the screen with his free hand, just as a Zurulian appeared in what looked like the district’s PSA format. “you can’t deceive me anymore.”
I looked back at thes screen as the woman began talking, but I couldn’t pay attention to what she was saying, not through my confusion and terror at the situation. Not even a few [minutes] ago, he and I were the happiest we’ve ever been, and now he thinks I’m deceiving him? “Orhew please, I don’t know what you mean! Tell m-”
“DON’T YOU DARE, PREDATOR!!”
…Predator?
Orhew nearly collapsed into a coughing fit after he attempted his scream at me. His voice, normally soft and raspy, was a gravelly mess raw with rage and sadness as he had tried to use them without his electrolarynx. But why would he call me a predator? What did he…
“Now, you see why it’s important to protect these secrets.”
“You’ve been conducting genetic engineering, on innocent species, at…I don’t even know how large a scale!”
“We saved them.”
…No. Nonononononononononono pleasepleaseplease Please No. Protector PLEASE NO!! NO!!! NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN-
{-ERR: Altered State Of Mind - Extreme Emotion-}
{-Attempting Recovery…Recovery Success-}
{-Adjusting Playback Parameters…Success-}
{-Playing…-}
I had to steady myself against the table to keep from falling over from shock, my arm barely strong enough to keep me upright. My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out the noises from the world around me as I struggled to remain conscious. No, no I couldn’t- That’s not- I’m not a-a…
Orhew was crying. The knife trembled in his paw as he stared at me, muttering to himself under his breath. I was only barely able to make out “pure” and “tainted” as he stared at me, full tears nearly pouring from his eyes. My own face felt wet as I realized what this had to mean.
Gojids are Predators.
“why?” Orhew asked me, his breathing almost as ragged as mine. I tried to tell him that I didn’t know, that I would never hurt anyone, but how could I know that was true? Was that what my impulses were? Predatory instincts reawakened?? …No sound came out of my mouth.
I heard Orhew gasp as he choked on his own mucus, followed by another horrible, wheezing attempt at a yell. “WHY?!” His legs gave out from under him and he collapsed to his knees, sobbing to himself next to the loaf of Strayu we had made. I almost reached out to help him, but I withdrew myself at the last second. He wasn’t safe around me, nobody was. How many things might I have tainted without even realizing?? I…I tainted him, didn’t I?
“O-Orh-hew, I-I-” I barely managed to choke out through my own tears and mucus, taking a step back for fear that my presence was only making things worse. My heart yearned to do something, anything, to ease the pain Orhew had to be feeling, but I refused it. Is that just another predatory trick I’m playing on myself? Who am I? What am I?!
“i-i trusted you,” Orhew coughed out, still reeling from raising his voice so much. Every syllable that came from his mouth stabbed me with another pang of sorrow. “how c-could you…you were pure…b-but I…” He shakily rose to his paws and started to stagger towards me, knife still in paw. I didn’t want him to be anywhere close to a monster like me, so I slid away on the ground, my spines fully flexed to the point of pain.
“i-i need…n-need to purge the taint,” he said, drawing closer towards me with the cooking instrument. How, how could this have happened?? Why did I have to be a…a… It only then occurred to me what he meant by that as his features bubbled with a mixture of agonizing emotions.
“i need to purge you.”
Even through the chemical cocktail that was my brain, my flight instincts kicked into overdrive. “N-No, Orh-hew, please! Please! I-I didn’t k-know about a-any of this!! I-I don’t wa-ant to hurt you!! Please, d-don’t ki-kill me!!” I pleaded for my life as the tears streamed from my eyes, my chest feeling so tight I thought it was about to implode. My vision was bleary with tears as I begged for my life to the man I love, unsure if it was even the right thing to do.
As Mute towered over me, I was unable to look away as he raised the knife above his head, his eyes alone conveying a tidal wave of pain and suffering hidden beneath his short wool. I closed my eyes and waited for him to do what needed to be done…only to be met by the sound of steel clattering against linoleum.
The strike never came.
After a moment, I opened my eyes to see him shaking and muttering to himself words that I could no longer hear from him. From the one I had unknowingly ensnared into whatever dastardly predatory deception I had created deep in my psyche. Even though my body was screaming at me to run, I couldn’t. My mind wouldn’t let me because I knew that I was a danger to everyone else, no matter how good I thought I had become. Because I’m nothing more than a filthy predator. Because death by his paws is what I deserve for everything I've done.
“...go.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Mute looked at me with a mixture of anger, pain, and sorrow in his features as he pointed sternly at the door. I looked between it and him, my adrenaline-addled mind struggling to comprehend what he was doing. My look only seemed to worsen his inner turmoil, as he clutched his head and screamed at me one last time.
“GO!!!”
That was the loudest I’ve ever heard him speak, even while using his ‘voice.’ The very floor shook with the force of his words, shattering my heart into a billion pieces from the sheer torment in his voice. Mute quickly descended into a violent coughing fit, and suddenly all the inhibitions I had melted away. With a speed beyond my physical limits, I bolted out the door of his house, my reality, and our life together in the unknown streets of the city. I was vaguely aware of people screaming and bodies littering the roadways.
Without thinking, I started to stumble down the road as fast as my paws could take me. I was heading towards the Exterminator’s office, they-they could tell me this wasn’t true, right? That this was all some big misunderstanding, and that I could go back to my happy life, right? I heard a terrible scream from behind me, its baritone raspiness serving to pulverize what was left of my soul. If I even have one.
I just need to get to the office, they’ll be able to help. They’ll be able to save me, just like they did all those [years] ago. Yeah, Nikonus said they saved us! They can do it again! They have to. They have to. They have to. They HAVE TO! Please, oh Protector Please let this be a bad dream! I want this nightmare to end, I want him to wake me up!
I just want my Kavelun back.
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submitted by Acceptable_Egg5560 to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
And many thanks to u/TheManwithaNoPlan for being a full co-writer on this project!
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(Welcome to the Orion Arm Grand University Archival Browser!)
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Archived Closed Circuit Security Video - Establishment: Exterminator’s Office - Dawn Creek Division - Date Recorded (ST): OCT 31, 2136 - Timeframe (ST): 11:37 - 11:45
Dozens of people sit in the meeting room, staring intently at a screen. It freezes when Nikonus reaches out a tentacle to slap down Cilany’s broadcasting camera. The feed cuts and leaves the meeting room staring at nothing. There is no noise for a moment as everybody looks at everyone else. The body languages of all in the room are tense in response to the information the broadcast had just provided them. This peace does not last long.
In the corner of the room, one black-suited Exterminator stands and attempts to raise their flamer. The perpetrator appears to be Venlil. Many other members of the room, particularly those of species mentioned in the broadcast, shrink away. Another Venlil rises from their seat and attempts to push the weapon’s nozzle down. They attempt to reason with the instigator. “Mafchi! What are you doing?? Put that thing away now!”
“Are you kidding?” The armed Venlil, Mafchi, responds. “We finally know why we’ve set up all those camps! It’s to corral all the predators into one place and purge them from the world! No wonder so many have tried to cozy up to the humans, predatory taint has been inundating us from between our eyes this whole time! Even here, in this very room!” Mafchi makes a sweeping gesture across the room. Exterminators who belong to omnivorous species shrink, except for one.
“What are you talking about, Mafchi??” A Tilfish officer lifts themselves from their thorax and points at Mafchi. “This is as much news to us as it is to you! Do you think that I, that any of us, knew about this?? I didn’t, that’s for damn sure! Now put down the brahking flamer and let us get scanned like all the others we’ve collected!” The screen comes back to life with the face of a Zurulian, but the focus is no longer on it.
“What, so you all can falsify yet more brain scans? That’s probably how you all have managed to keep yourselves hidden! Of course, how could I have not seen it before?? You! You’re all in cahoots with the Humans and Arxur! Making us tainted enough to where we willing turn ourselves over to be eaten! The humans they- they were just a test! You can’t hide your intentions anymore, vile predator scum!!” Mafchi attempts to raise their flamer again, but is once more stopped by the Venlil by their side.
The pair scuffle as they wrestle over the weapon. The rest of the crowd starts to murmur and move. Some Venlil and other herbivorous species distance themselves from their omnivorous companions. Some begin to apply their masks. A gap starts to form.
“Mafchi, that’s enough! You’re talking completely crazy! Drop the flamer and come with u-” The other Venlil is cut off by an elbow impacting their lower jaw. Their teeth audibly clack together before they fall to the ground. The situation rapidly worsens as many Exterminators grab their arms, pointing their flamers at one another. Omnivorous species point at herbivorous species, but several of the herbivores also join the side with Tilfish and Gojid. The gap grows wider as even more silver and black suited exterminators zip their masks over their heads.
“STOP!” A Kolshian stands from their seat and rushes into the middle of the fighting. They still have their mask hanging behind their head, their face fully visible. They hold their tentacles out to their sides in an attempt to keep hostilities from rising further. “Please, this doesn’t have to end in bloodshed! This is upsetting news, I know that for certain, but this is not the way to resolve it! We can’t just panic into madness and just start killing people! Mafchi, Iltivik, lower your weapons now!” Their tone is commanding, and for a brief moment, both parties obey. However, that is short lived.
“... Why are you saying this, Nhilasi?” Mafchi asks, leveling their weapon at the Kolshian, Nhilasi. “As a matter of fact, why don’t you tell us just how long you knew about all this?”
Nhilasi appears taken aback and her body language becomes far more animated as the situation devolves. “Me?? How could I have known? I just learned about this now!!”
The body language of the people on Mafchi’s side shifts. Tails lash in skepticism and hostility. “You think we’ll buy that for a second? It’s been through you that the predatorshit High Magister has been giving us orders! They had to have known about this before us, and that means you. And- and you’re a Kolshian! Nikonus said what the Kolshians did, it was your species that’s responsible for doing all- all this and then covering it up! It’s your fault that we’re so immolated by taint, you and your whole spehking species!!”
Nhilasi attempts to reciprocate, but is cut off by Mafchi yelling to all the others in the room. “Exterminators! This is clear and distinct evidence of predator taint on a scale that we could not have imagined before! If you have any sense of duty left, you’ll help me subdue these predatory infiltrators and purge this district- nay, this planet of taint! Once! AND FOR ALL!” A solid majority of the herbivores raise their paws in solidarity. The omnivores and sympathetic herbivores are outnumbered at 2 to 1, which proves disastrous once Mafchi speaks again. “SEIZE THEM!!”
The meeting room descends into chaos at a moment’s notice, as every hostile officer goes after and attempts to subdue an omnivore or sympathetic herbivore. The camera’s microphone peaks multiple times during the chaos, in which the hostile attackers appear to be winning. Yet suddenly a group of three Venlil and two Gojid burst from the fray and stumble out of the room, the running out of sight. Over the sounds of distress and anger coming from the room, Mafchi’s voice can be heard as they speak into a comlink.
“Attention all True Exterminators, capture the predatory impostors in your midst and meet the rest of us out front. We will burn this building to the ground to wipe the taint from its very foundation! Our traitorous High Magister seeks to have us merely scan and release the predatory influence? We shall not let him! We will burn every last predator and sympathizer from the face of this district! From the face of this very planet!! We shall do what we have so long been incapable of now that we are freed from our false comrades! For the glory of the Federation! FOR THE GOOD OF THE HERD!!”
They pant as they deactivate their comlink and look at the terrified mass of omnivores and herbivores crowded against the corner of the room. Among them are the Venlil who attempted to stop Mafchi, Iltivik the Tilfish officer, and Nhilasi. The latter struggles against her restraints, her face contorted with anger at Mafchi. “You can’t do this! You’ll be facilitating a slaughter the likes of which can only be compared to the Arxur! Please, Mafchi, don’t do this. Let us all free and talk!”
Mafchi looks at Nhilasi and stops moving. Other screams and shouts can be heard faintly through the walls. They kneel down next to the group of restrained officers, their tail wagging gleefully. “Your predatory deception won’t work on us anymore. All of you will meet the ends your kinds should have seen hundreds of years ago. We will fix the Federation’s mistakes and finally clear the galaxy of predators once and for all! Starting. Right. Here.” There is venom in their voice as they bring their monologue to a close. They motion for the “True Exterminators” to follow them out the door, locking it behind them as they leave.
There is not much movement in the following minutes. The primary actions caught on tape are crying and pleading to be let go. Some hang their heads and others scream out in desperation. After a few minutes pass, Nhilasi grunts and manages to wiggle her tentacles out of their restraints. Her success is met with more pleas and sounds for her to help them. Once she undoes her leg restraints, she starts trying to free everyone else as well. “I know, I know! Damn it, I should’ve known that those new transfers would be nothing but trouble. If I meet that spehkbrain bird Estela again, I’m gonna-” She takes in a deep breath as she unlocks the restraints on a frightened Gojid officer. “Nope, I’m going to firmly scold her, that’s what I’ll do. Yep.”
She works on freeing others restraints, who in turn aid in her effort. Before long, all the officers are freed and nervously conversing amongst themselves. Among the murmurs are mentions of “maybe we are dangerous” and “what if we suddenly want meat?” These conversations are interrupted by Nhilasi, who stands on one of the desks. “Everyone, please listen to me!”
The voices die down and attention falls on her. She takes another breath before continuing. “I-I know that things seem bleak. Believe me, I had no idea this was what we were preparing for, but I don’t think that your species' past deserves for you to get burned! I was born and raised on Venlil Prime, and I have known many people from the races mentioned by Nikonus! In fact, I know a fair few here in this very room! You have dedicated your lives to protecting the weak of the herd, and nothing in your genetic past can change that commitment! I have no intention of you dying here today! We can take them! Come on!”
Nhilasi hops off the desk and rushes to the door, using a keycard to unlock it and hold it open for the rest of the room. They start to filter out at varying paces, but do eventually vacate the room. The room is empty for 92 seconds before screaming can be heard from somewhere else in the building. Immediately following this, a bright flash engulfs the camera lens and the feed goes dead. The error code is consistent with that of electrical interruption.
(Specified Media Concluded.)
(Watch Another? [Y])
(Searching for Similar Media…2 Found.)
(Playing…)
{Oh, oh, we need to check on Sol-Vah next! Things are bound to happen with her!}
{Isn’t that the reason we should look?}
<…Damn you for weaponizing my curiosity.>
(Playback Paused.)
(Command: [minimzeprogram])
(Are you sure? [Y])
…
{-Welcome To: Terra Technologies Transcription Hub!-}
{-Choose Service: (Transcription Playback)-}
{-Restart From Last Playback Point? Y/(N)-}
{-[USERID-11229KMD]: procViewHist -}
{-Retrieving Transcription Viewing History…-}
{-List Retrieved - Select Desired Subject: (Sol-Vah)-}
{-Restart From Last Playback Point? (Y)/N-}
{-Playing…-}
Memory Transcription Subject: Sol-Vah, Gojid Citizen. Date [Standardized Human Time] October 31st, 2136
As I laid on the bed, I started to get concerned. It shouldn’t have taken Orhew this long to get the Strayu out of the forge given that he wouldn’t need to use protection to retrieve it. I tried to push my worries to the back of my mind, but I was ultimately unsuccessful in my endeavors. Furthermore, I could hear voices coming from the central room, likely from the holovision. Is he watching something?
Unable to contain my curiosity, I managed to hop down from the bed and make my way towards the door. My steps were unsteady due to the pleasure Orhew had bestowed upon me during our mating, but I was able to push through. As I placed my paw on the door, I heard something drop to the ground, the definitive sounds of other people talking echoing through Orhew’s abode. I had no idea what was going on, so with a moment’s hesitation, I slid open the door.
The previously muffled voices roared to life as I heard what sounded like a male Gojid speak through the screen. “No. You’re lying,” the Gojid said, the holoscreen showing him on his hands and knees as he panted heavily. He looked to be in immense pain, something which I couldn’t quite understand as he was unscathed. Orhew was standing still, both eyes affixed to the screen with a Strayu knife in his left hand and the loaf we had made fallen on the ground.
…What’s going on?
I decided to watch silently as g gthe scene continued. “I am not. See, Cilany? It’s cruel.” Another voice piped up from the screen and the shot rapidly changed to a familiar face. Is that… Chief Nikonus? How are we getting a feed from Federation space? The camera shook slightly as the recorder’s voice, Cilany I presumed, came from the screen in turn. “I don’t know what to say. This is a lot at once.”
As the camera panned back to find the Gojid completely curled up on the ground sobbing, I grew more and more concerned. What was this? Why was Orhew watching it? What’s a lot to take in at once?? My focus darted between the screen and Orhew, who was starting to shake. I could hear his heavy breathing even from across the room, and I wanted to go and comfort him from whatever this w-
“Now, you see why it’s important to protect these secrets. People like the Gojids can live in peace from their past. We’ve made it possible for them to walk among us, without threatening stability. We saved them.”
…What?
“What you did is wrong. You’ve been conducting genetic engineering, on innocent species, at…I don’t even know how large a scale. Your actions are going to kill us all, between the Arxur and the humans!”
Genetic engineering? Saved us? What…what does that…
“You haven’t learned a thing here. If you publish any of this, I’ll shoot it down as a wild fabrication. There’s no proof. Nobody would believe you.” Nikonus sneered at Cilany and whoever the Gojid was, the camera quickly panning down to him before Cliany chuckled darkly. “They don’t have to believe me. You just told everyone yourself.”
Nikonus’s eyes bulged from his head and he started to shout something, but my attention was drawn away once I realized that Orhew was no longer facing the screen. He was facing me, directly. Both of his eyes stared at me, sending chills down my spines in a way not even Humans could muster. What’s going on?? What was Nikonus talking about?!
“Orhew, wh-” I started to ask, but the [second] I took a step towards him, he leveled the knife he was holding directly at me. What- why- he- this- “Orhew, w-what’s going on? Why was Nikonus on the HV?? W-Why are you holding a knife at me?!” I can barely breathe, oh Protector what’s happening??
He was silent, scanning me up and down as his body shook uncharacteristically. I had never seen him like this before, and it was scaring me. After an agonizingly long and silent moment, he finally spoke. “is it true?”
“W-What?” I stammered, barely able to hear his voice over my racing heart. I heard strange noises coming from outside, but my focus was entirely on him. “Is what true? Orhew, what was that on the screen? Please, tell me!”
His ears wavered slightly at my admission of fear, but that moment of hesitation was followed by a fiery anger the likes of which I’ve never seen from him before burning in his eyes. He bared his teeth at me and violently pointed at the screen with his free hand, just as a Zurulian appeared in what looked like the district’s PSA format. “you can’t deceive me anymore.”
I looked back at thes screen as the woman began talking, but I couldn’t pay attention to what she was saying, not through my confusion and terror at the situation. Not even a few [minutes] ago, he and I were the happiest we’ve ever been, and now he thinks I’m deceiving him? “Orhew please, I don’t know what you mean! Tell m-”
“DON’T YOU DARE, PREDATOR!!”
…Predator?
Orhew nearly collapsed into a coughing fit after he attempted his scream at me. His voice, normally soft and raspy, was a gravelly mess raw with rage and sadness as he had tried to use them without his electrolarynx. But why would he call me a predator? What did he…
“Now, you see why it’s important to protect these secrets.”
“You’ve been conducting genetic engineering, on innocent species, at…I don’t even know how large a scale!”
“We saved them.”
…No. Nonononononononononono pleasepleaseplease Please No. Protector PLEASE NO!! NO!!! NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN-
{-ERR: Altered State Of Mind - Extreme Emotion-}
{-Attempting Recovery…Recovery Success-}
{-Adjusting Playback Parameters…Success-}
{-Playing…-}
I had to steady myself against the table to keep from falling over from shock, my arm barely strong enough to keep me upright. My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out the noises from the world around me as I struggled to remain conscious. No, no I couldn’t- That’s not- I’m not a-a…
Orhew was crying. The knife trembled in his paw as he stared at me, muttering to himself under his breath. I was only barely able to make out “pure” and “tainted” as he stared at me, full tears nearly pouring from his eyes. My own face felt wet as I realized what this had to mean.
Gojids are Predators.
“why?” Orhew asked me, his breathing almost as ragged as mine. I tried to tell him that I didn’t know, that I would never hurt anyone, but how could I know that was true? Was that what my impulses were? Predatory instincts reawakened?? …No sound came out of my mouth.
I heard Orhew gasp as he choked on his own mucus, followed by another horrible, wheezing attempt at a yell. “WHY?!” His legs gave out from under him and he collapsed to his knees, sobbing to himself next to the loaf of Strayu we had made. I almost reached out to help him, but I withdrew myself at the last second. He wasn’t safe around me, nobody was. How many things might I have tainted without even realizing?? I…I tainted him, didn’t I?
“O-Orh-hew, I-I-” I barely managed to choke out through my own tears and mucus, taking a step back for fear that my presence was only making things worse. My heart yearned to do something, anything, to ease the pain Orhew had to be feeling, but I refused it. Is that just another predatory trick I’m playing on myself? Who am I? What am I?!
“i-i trusted you,” Orhew coughed out, still reeling from raising his voice so much. Every syllable that came from his mouth stabbed me with another pang of sorrow. “how c-could you…you were pure…b-but I…” He shakily rose to his paws and started to stagger towards me, knife still in paw. I didn’t want him to be anywhere close to a monster like me, so I slid away on the ground, my spines fully flexed to the point of pain.
“i-i need…n-need to purge the taint,” he said, drawing closer towards me with the cooking instrument. How, how could this have happened?? Why did I have to be a…a… It only then occurred to me what he meant by that as his features bubbled with a mixture of agonizing emotions.
“i need to purge you.”
Even through the chemical cocktail that was my brain, my flight instincts kicked into overdrive. “N-No, Orh-hew, please! Please! I-I didn’t k-know about a-any of this!! I-I don’t wa-ant to hurt you!! Please, d-don’t ki-kill me!!” I pleaded for my life as the tears streamed from my eyes, my chest feeling so tight I thought it was about to implode. My vision was bleary with tears as I begged for my life to the man I love, unsure if it was even the right thing to do.
As Mute towered over me, I was unable to look away as he raised the knife above his head, his eyes alone conveying a tidal wave of pain and suffering hidden beneath his short wool. I closed my eyes and waited for him to do what needed to be done…only to be met by the sound of steel clattering against linoleum.
The strike never came.
After a moment, I opened my eyes to see him shaking and muttering to himself words that I could no longer hear from him. From the one I had unknowingly ensnared into whatever dastardly predatory deception I had created deep in my psyche. Even though my body was screaming at me to run, I couldn’t. My mind wouldn’t let me because I knew that I was a danger to everyone else, no matter how good I thought I had become. Because I’m nothing more than a filthy predator. Because death by his paws is what I deserve for everything I've done.
“...go.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Mute looked at me with a mixture of anger, pain, and sorrow in his features as he pointed sternly at the door. I looked between it and him, my adrenaline-addled mind struggling to comprehend what he was doing. My look only seemed to worsen his inner turmoil, as he clutched his head and screamed at me one last time.
“GO!!!”
That was the loudest I’ve ever heard him speak, even while using his ‘voice.’ The very floor shook with the force of his words, shattering my heart into a billion pieces from the sheer torment in his voice. Mute quickly descended into a violent coughing fit, and suddenly all the inhibitions I had melted away. With a speed beyond my physical limits, I bolted out the door of his house, my reality, and our life together in the unknown streets of the city. I was vaguely aware of people screaming and bodies littering the roadways.
Without thinking, I started to stumble down the road as fast as my paws could take me. I was heading towards the Exterminator’s office, they-they could tell me this wasn’t true, right? That this was all some big misunderstanding, and that I could go back to my happy life, right? I heard a terrible scream from behind me, its baritone raspiness serving to pulverize what was left of my soul. If I even have one.
I just need to get to the office, they’ll be able to help. They’ll be able to save me, just like they did all those [years] ago. Yeah, Nikonus said they saved us! They can do it again! They have to. They have to. They have to. They HAVE TO! Please, oh Protector Please let this be a bad dream! I want this nightmare to end, I want him to wake me up!
I just want my Kavelun back.
[First]-[Prev]-[Next]
2024.05.13 10:37 Cummy_wummys Curing Malpractice ch-21
Disclaimer: I have to shorten the words on this one because the chapter had gone on for to long and stole the word count limit. Every person in this section has my deepest and most sincere thanks for the art, memes, and love they have shown my series.
Thank you to: for proofreading, editing, and this art. Check his fic here!
u/Talentlessfurry for this art.
u/Roddcherry for adding Novel to the charismas party he drew.
u/everyveryever for this art.
u/Emotion-Senior for the meme.
u/Orphandestroyer99 for the comic and art.
u/abrachoo for the meme.
u/guaiwutongzhi for the art.
u/United_Patriots for the art.
u/migulehove for the art(s).
u/aMANTEIGAdo for the art.
u/SlimyRage for the art.
Thank you to each and every one of these amazing people!
CW: Accidental Substance Abuse
Memory Transcription Subject: Novel, Kolshian Scientist and Self-Proclaimed “Gamer God”
Date {standardized human time}: October 19th, 2136
The elevator ride took a lot longer than I would have liked, my excitement and anticipation making it difficult to stand still. Ada’s room was almost at the top floor of the building — along with those of the other members of my herd — making it take a bit longer to get to than most of the other Humans’ I’ve visited while here.
Seems they are keeping the various tribes in their own groups. The fourth floor has the Germans, French, Polish, and Austrians, with a few Danes and Swedes mixed in. I wonder if they did that to keep the different tribes from fighting with ones they don’t like? Doubtful really, everyone seems to get along well enough, disregarding a couple jabs here and there. Probably just makes geographical sense to put them together.
My pondering was broken with a soft ding of the old elevator doors opening. I stepped out of the elevator quickly and took in my surroundings. There were very few humans milling about the quiet halls as they went about their business. One human with comfy-looking pelts had noticed me step out of the elevator and had frozen where they stood. After a short, yet still uncomfortably awkward moment, I gave a wave with one of my upper appendages and walked down a different hall.
A few moments later, I pulled out my pad to look at the message Sindre sent me.
Room 441, hailey and i went to get some stuff for the sesh. ada will be there in a bit. see you soon, {censored}
From: Sindre(Human)
I quickly typed out my own message.
Thank you! I’ll meet you there!
From: Me
Stowing the pad, I made my way there. Along the way I encountered several more Humans, each of which having some sort of reaction to my presence. Mostly just freezing in place or casting glances at me as I walked by. Some of them recognized me, either from when we baked together, or when I was in the rec room when the news dropped and gave me a wave in return. There was one case though when a Terran exited their room, saw me, and let out a noise I can only describe as a squeal before diving back into their room.
That last one confused me to no end, as I had never seen that reaction from a human before. I considered knocking on the door before thinking better of it and continuing down the hall to my destination.
How curious… I'll have to ask Ada about that human and why they ran away from me... Heh, prey scaring predators. Not so long ago, such a concept would’ve been seen as the ultimate goal, any real-world examples derided as only that of a dreamer’s fallacy, and yet now… I don’t think I like the idea so much…
I made a mental note to apologize to them if we ever meet again and kept walking, this time with my form hunched and my pace a little faster than before so I could avoid bothering the Terrans as much. It seemed to work, and the humans seemed to look away a little faster than they had previously.
Arriving at Ada’s door, though, I composed myself as best I could, straightening my back and taking a deep breath to calm myself. I knocked on the door a few times, only for it to open a slight amount. Cocking my head in confusion, I listened to the slight groaning of the hinges before I gently pushed it the rest of the way, the door creaking loudly in resistance.
The room smelled of wax and freshly harvested Othll bark, like I had just walked into the home improvement aisle of a store. Walking further inside showed me the source of the smell, which was a set of candles sitting on top of a nightstand in the corner… next to a fire alarm with the battery taken out.
That’s a little concerning… that can’t be safe at least. I should tell her to put it back in when I see her… wherever she is.
Looking around the room some more showed it to be quite unkempt, with pelts and other junk laying strewn haphazardly across the floor. Personal knick-knacks and picture frames sat on shelves and tables around the room, making the places feel a lot more homely than the other rooms I’d been in. A large TV sat on the other side of the room across from the bed, which had been recently used, going by the blanket on the floor and the pillows tossed about. Against the wall next to the bed was a large couch that had clearly seen better paws, the top layer peeling heavily and scattering the little bits of plastic covering everywhere.
Sitting next to the TV appeared to be some sort of Terran gaming console, complete with bright colors plastered across its many faces and with several different wires coming out of it. Far more than there should be, since part of the case it was in had been smashed to fit more cabling into. Tools, used wires, and broken plastic laid scattered next to the patchwork job.
Seems they really did modify it. Makes sense, since I doubt it would normally work on our systems at all… we should really put that fire alarm back in…
Just as I started walking over to inspect it, my lower tentacle caught something soft on one of the suckers. Looking down showed it to be one of the chest pelts Ada had been wearing the paw I met her. Closer inspection showed the whole floor was covered in discarded pelts, including some I had never seen before!
I let out a sigh as I looked around at the mess… I hope she doesn't mind if I cleaned up a bit.
And that's exactly what I did as I waited for my host to return. It did not take long for me to find the garbage can and hamper she used for her used pelts. While I worked though the piles, I took note of the stranger clothes I saw. Most of them were the regular chest pelts that I’d seen every human wear, but others were completely unique or otherwise somehow unusual.
One such example was what I can only describe as some sort of winter gear? It had a very intricate design on the front made of lace and a very soft interior made of a kind of purple fabric. What made it even more strange was that I found several of these scattered around the room, meaning that she was wearing these pretty regularly too!
Hmmm… perhaps it is meant to keep their ears warm? That would explain the strap on the back, as it would be meant to go under their chin. That doesn’t explain why she would be using it though, and to have so many! It must get cold in here when the A/C kicks in, I guess. This place is really old after all.
Either way, they went into the hamper. I left the tools where they were, in case they belonged to different people, but everything else went straight into the trash. The whole process was pretty exhausting, but the room ended up looking much nicer than it had before!
Just as I finished bagging up the garbage can, the door gave a loud creak as Ada stepped in wearing some pretty comfortable-looking pelts similar to the ones she had been wearing a few paws ago, pink prey head slippers and all.
A few {seconds} pass as she starts pulling out clear totes full of what I assume to be her things before I break out of my confusion and flick her a tail wave.
“Hey Ada! Whe-”
“AAAAHHH!!!”
She screamed as she stumbled onto her back, causing me to drop the bag and jump in fright. We stared at each other for a moment before Ada spoke up.
“Nov’?! What the fuck are you doing in here?! You weren't… ya Allah, you scared the crap out of me!”
My arms and tentacles raised up in a pleading gesture after I realized what I did. “S-sorry! I-I thought you would see me! And Sindre said to meet you here? F-for the games?”
Ada took a few more moments to calm down on the floor, but eventually, she stood up and took a few breaths. “You’re fine, squiddie… Sindre didn’t mention how close you were so… oh well, doesn't matter I guess. Uh, what’s in the bag you got there? Also… where are all of my clothes?”
At her observation, I picked up the trash bag and held it up for her to see. “Well… your room was a bit of a mess, a-and you were gone, so I did a bit of… cleaning? Nothing major, just throwing away some trash and putting the pelts in the hamper.”
“Oh, well, thanks Nov. I was gonna get to that befor-” Suddenly she stops herself mid-sentence. Her eyes widen as she casts her forward-facing gaze over to the pelts’ bin.
For some reason, the human's usual light brown features darken considerably with a crimson bloom. Ada turned to look at me, and I gave my best happy expression I could muster to put her at ease. This time, the human's face twisted into an obvious forced snarl before she gave up, running a hand down her face.
“Novel, j-just a heads up for the future, it’s considered rude to go through someone's room and touch their… pelts without permission. They are, um, quite personal belongings, and we don’t let other people touch certain ones. Fuck, uh, don’t tell the other two about this either. It would be, eugh…” Ada’s snarl gets larger as she looks back to the hamper, the crimson still blooming across her face. My tail flicked curiously as I looked between her and the pelt basket.
How peculiar… Hailey seemed just fine with dumping all sorts of pelts on me when she was showing them off. Perhaps that's because she studies it, so in that case it’s seen as okay? Maybe it has more to deal with how I came in here without her supervision? Predators are known to be territorial in the wild, and the Humans seem to be that way as well with their many borders. Letting someone into your ‘territory’ must be a pretty personal thing in the first place. Which would mean that she must be upset that I just walked in here and started messing with things! Speh!
A tentacle reached out, or up I suppose, to Ada’s shoulder while my tail signaled my sincerest apologies. “I-I am so sorry, Ada. If I knew, I would have never touched anything! Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone! Do you want me to… put it back the way I found it?”
The human seemed to find my appeasement worthy as she let out a quiet laugh. “No, Nov’, you’re just fine. Thanks for cleaning up too, I guess; I was gonna do it myself, but oh well… not something we need to talk about.” She lets out another laugh as she walks over to the modified console and grabs a controller.
Yet, before she could get a word out, there was a sharp knock on the door, followed by it swinging open to reveal the last two members of our herd. Sindre came in first, carrying several different bags filled to the brim with snacks of all varieties. He gave a simple head nod and rushed over to the table by the TV to deposit his haul, dropping a few on the floor in his haste.
Hailey walked in right behind him with a plastic grocery bag over her shoulder filled with many different colored bottles of drink and a tray of small dark-brown squares covered in plastic wrap. Her free hand gave us both a wave while she walked to the table in a much calmer manner, at least when compared to her compatriot.
We both gave our own wave in return while I spoke up. “Hey guys! Welcome! What did you get from the kitchen?”
Hailey set her things down on the table. “Not much. Some dried fruit, chips, cookies, soda, juice, and even some fresh brownies someone made! I assumed they were for the taking since they had a few trays sitting out to cool down, but we didn’t really have time to ask since we kinda rushed up here. Oh, and the kitchen stinks to high hell for some reason. Might have to tell Emmanual about that.”
My head tilted curiously at the information as Ada and Sindre moved the couch over to where I was standing. Once it was in place, I took a seat at the opposite end from Hailey. “Well, I’m glad you got what you wanted! Do you mind if I take one of those, uh, brownies?”
She gave me a hand wave as I reached over and undid the plastic wrap around the treats. They were still quite warm from the kitchen! I took a small bite out of the corner to get a taste of it, only to then gobble up the whole thing in one bite.
This is amazing! It’s like strayu but… richer? With an almost cough medicine aftertaste mixed with that strange spice? Such a strange and yet fascinating combination!
“Such a weird taste… but definitely a good one! Are there any more downstairs?” I asked while covering my mouth as best I could for the sake of manners.
She took one herself and took a small bite. “Yep, at least a couple more trays from what we saw. Though I bet most of those will be gone once word gets around.”
My head nodded solemnly as I picked up another.
Might as well enjoy them while we can!
Ada walked over to me and flicked the space in between my eyes with her fingers. Her other hand passed me a human game controller before taking a seat right next to me. “Save some for us, ya green goblin! Pretty sure we’re meant to share those!”
The humans let out a soft chuckle while my face warmed in embarrassment. Luckily, they didn’t stay focused on it for long before she pointed to the controller. “So, do you need help with that? It’s not exactly built for you.”
Moving it around in my appendages was more than enough to prove that fact, but I tried to give her a dismissive tail wave while sitting down. “Don’t worry… I should be able to make this work…” I said while using all four of my limbs to hold the piece of plastic. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it’ll do the job for now.
“Not the first time I had to do this. There are a lot of different species on Aafa, and some of them have very strange, uh, manipulators… you just have to get used to it.”
There may not have been a lot, or really any other species in my home town, but that college certainly did. Me and Cloyta used to hang out with a few different herds whenever we had the time. That Tilfish remote was an interesting experience to use. Having to use smells to figure out a puzzle in a game like it was normal was really something else.
The TV and console suddenly turned on with a bright flash as Sindre held out a remote towards them both. He used his controller to navigate to a menu on the system to reveal a vast collection of Human games. I grabbed my pad out of my pack to translate some of the games as Sindre scrolled by.
Doom of Kevsar, Helldivers: Super Dating Simulator, Papa’s Pizzeria, Skyrim 2… all these seem fine, I guess. At least not super violent like I thought… A good sign!
Sindre spoke up first as he continued to look through the archive. “Anyway, we were talking the other day about which game to show you first, but we couldn’t agree on what would be the best showcase. So instead of one game voted in from all of us, we are each going to show you a game we think you’ll like best. Sounds good?”
My tail thumped against the back of the couch in acceptance. “Yup! That actually sounds really great! Get to see a wider spectrum of human ‘entertainment!’ Who’s going first?”
“Sindre is…” Hailey speaks up in between bites of her confection, “His system, his pick… still think it’s a dumb fucking game though.” He says as he stops his scrolling and arrives at a very brightly colored preview with several… Humans? Human-like creatures in what look like Dossur vehicles?
He presses a button to select the game as a grin grows on his face. “Hey, Mario Kart Galaxy 3 is a classic! You’re just mad because you’re bad at it.” Sindre turns his head to me while Hailey leans forward. “You’ll love it, I swear. Really shows off the real Humanity we have to hide from you guys.”
“That's for a good reason, you dolt. But it’s your choice…” Hailey said while wiping her hands on a napkin.
I hoped he was right as some cheerful music started playing.
{Memory Transcription Time Advancement: 19 Terran standard minutes…}
Sindre was right! This is fun!
The upbeat music continues to play as I make another turn around a corner, drifting a little to build up some momentum. The ‘Birdo’ creature in my ‘Kart’ does a little dance as I time it right and get a small speed boost, sending me further down the multi-colored track.
“Hmmhmmmhm, hmhmhmm~.” I tried my best to hum along to the music as I continued with the race.
I never would have thought that a racing game could be interesting. Cloyta and I played a few when we were much younger, but they seemed slow in comparison. Usually had a goal at the end as well, like delivering some fruits to a market, or maybe trading on spacefaring merchant vessels in the more complex ones.
It was super fun though! Competing against each other felt a little off, but I wrote it off as a Human cultural thing. A way of bonding, as with most things for them it seems. Other than that, I found the racing to be a lot of fun! There was so much going on, and yet it somehow managed to really keep you aware of everything going on at all times.
A projectile here, a fruit peel trap there, there was so much to think about that I almost forgot to pay attention to the humans! Which, if I weren’t here to study them, might have been a good thing. There were times the competitive nature of the game seemed to draw something else out of them, something I hadn’t expected.
It was… well…
“If I run into one more fucking banana, I will kick you down a flight of stairs and jump on your head from the top step!”
“How the hell did that hit ME!? Broken fucking hitboxes in this shitty ass game!”
“GET YOUR CRUSTY TOAD ASS OFF ME BEFORE I RIP YOU ASSHOLE TO ASSHOLE!!!”
…intense.
My enjoyment of the game seemed to be pretty one-sided unfortunately. Even by the already high standards of the Humans’ previous banter, this was truly something else. While I was still learning the game and slowly climbed up the leaderboard, the Humans all led the herd by taking the top 3 spots every time. They were so close together in some of the races that it was nearly impossible to tell who would win until the last moment, making their yelling even more vicious and bloodthirsty.
There were times I thought they were about to get physically violent with each other once it got to the final lap, but thankfully, it never came to that, aside from maybe some light pushing. Their… banter? Fighting? Uh… verbal abuse towards each other made learning the game a lot harder too since every time I tried to ask a question, my voice would get drowned out in all the yelling. They did show me the basic controls before we started, but it’s a little hard to ask for pointers when your coaches are threatening severe bodily harm against each other.
As I drifted around another sharp turn, my mind wandered back to what Sindre said when we’d first started:
‘Really shows off the real Humanity we have to hide from you guys.’
Was this supposed to be the ‘real Humanity’? I sure hope not… I think I’d prefer if they actually came to blows instead of continuing this barrage of foulness they are constantly spewing. They don’t even seem to be enjoying it! They have to be doing it for a reason… right?
I continued to think as I continued down the track and finished my second lap. The argument was starting to build up again as the stakes started to rise.
“Oh, yeah, of course you get a red shell in 2nd and I get fucking bananas in 3RD! Gotta love this piece of shit game!!” Hailey shouted, leaning forward like she was about to pounce on the TV.
“Not my fault you can’t aim for shit, dumbass! Just throw better!” Sindre quipped back.
“How about I throw you out a five story window?! I mean, I would if your fatass wouldn't snap the floorboards if I tried!” Ada finished it as he gave her an aggressive shove with his shoulder.
Yet, unlike how I expected, she didn’t push back. That's what makes this all so confusing! Each time they antagonize each other, the other person does it back, and they just stop! Their words sound like they mean it to hurt, and their actions reflect that… but they aren’t acting on it.
Hmm… the ‘real Humanity’, huh… Maybe I’m approaching this the wrong way? Something less about who the Humans are, so to speak, but more how they feel? They’ve been awfully emotional in every interaction I’ve ever had with them… Aggressive, too, admittedly. Maybe… maybe this is a way for them to vent some of that aggression safely? Around people they really trust with a game you can complain about, but demands too much attention to leave them to do more than yell at each other? Things have been rather… stressful, lately.
My tail thumped a few more times against the dilapidated couch, sending a few more puffs of stuffing into the air. The theory kind of lined up with what I knew, but I was here with the primary source for a reason, after all. I would just ask them, but…
“I am going to FUCKING DEEPFRY THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM {Ass Violin}!!!”
They were busy.
They seem pretty angry… but if it helps them deal with their stress, then I am just fine with it. I’m glad they are getting through it in their own… ‘special’ Human way.
In any case, it was still better than damming it all up until it overflowed and someone really got hurt. Safe in the knowledge that the Humans (probably) wouldn’t actually attack each other, I just resolved to focus on the game instead. The third and final lap was coming around, and things were starting to ramp up even further. The Humans’ false violence got even louder, and coupled with the occasional and really rather distracting limb shooting out and the rapidly intensifying music, my poor heart was not in the best condition as our racers closed in on the finish line.
But then, all of a sudden, something very strange happened. The Humans simultaneously began to curse louder than ever before, screaming and wailing as an odd blue indicator flashed along the top of the screen, indicating some kind of blue spiky ball rapidly approaching us from behind. All three of them illogically slammed on the brakes, clearly trying to dodge the oncoming projectile, but it was to no avail. The ball flew right past my ‘Kart’ and struck the center of the tightly crowded humans, unleashing an explosion of blue fire that stunned all three.
Allowing my Kart, driving at maximum speed in hopes of any shot at outrunning the projectile, to shoot right past them and cross the finish line first.
Wait… what?
A brief silence hung in the air at what just happened until my arms went up in the air
“Hey, look! I won! Hehehe! I didn’t know I would get so lucky on my first try! Is that sort of thing… common…?”
I stopped my celebration as all the Humans were giving me very intense looks with their stares. They lacked the familiar friendliness most Humans looked at me with, but instead seemed much… angrier.
Speh, right. They are still mad from before, and now I just beat them at their own race… O-okay, they don’t mean it, they are upset and need to let it out. Just have to get through it.
Seeing what was about to happen, I curled in on myself and braced myself for the barrage of verbal slurry coming my way. A moment passed as I waited for the insults to fly but… they never came? Opening an eye revealed the Human’s expressions had changed from fury to…
Amusement?
“You alright there Nov’? You’re shaking pretty bad… Was that too much?” Ada asked in a quiet voice while patting me on the back roughly. It took a moment for my brain to catch up before I could speak again.
“O-oh, uh, sorry, I thought you all were going to… yell at me? Like you did with each other?” My voice was a little shaky as I unfurled myself.
All of the Germans seemed to wince a little at that. “Yeah… fuck, sorry about that. Mario Kart is a pretty rage-inducing game. Shoulda thought about that beforehand.”
My tail attempted to signal calm while trapped behind me. “N-no, it’s fine… I did learn a lot actually. It was fun too, besides the yelling part. Um, can we move on though? I think I’ve got enough out of this one.”
Sindre exits the game with a nod while the others let out deep sighs. “Yeah, sorry Nov’. It’s one of the most popular party games Humanity ever made, so I figured it would be a good one to show you. Next is… Ada’s pick… we sure we should do this one?”
The woman turned her head to look at Sindre. “Positive. They have a vegan option in the settings, so it’s not going to get us arrested or anything. Plus, it's a cooperative party game! Feds seem to love that whole ‘herd’ thing, and Nov’ liked the last one so I’m sure it’ll be fine!”
She gave a dismissive hand wave before turning back to me. “It’ll be fine, really. I played this game as a kid all the time, no need to panic, right?” She seemed a little worried at the end of that sentence, so I tried to put on a brave face.
“S-sounds great! What’s it about?” I mentally chastised myself for my stutter and reached towards the table to grab another pastry. “Ahem. There’s nothing predatory in it, right?”
She grabs one herself and a glass of an orange fizzy drink. “Nope, none at all! Just some harmless cooking with your friends! You’ll love it!” Her enthusiasm helped me calm down as the game started booting up on screen.
Overcooked 5: Season of Seasoning.
Looks cheerful at least. Cooking is fun too… It’ll be fine, yeah.
I took a bite out of my brownie as the game's main menu music started to play.
{Memory Transcription Time Advancement: 23 Standard Terran Minutes…}
You know… I think I get it.
A soft relaxing track played in the background as the four little chefs on screen ran around doing various tasks needed to keep the kitchen functioning, like preparing vegetables, or washing dishes. A timer at the top of the screen was slowly counting down while a little ‘onion’ next to it with a Human face rambled on about something or other.
Orders start coming in quick, and all of us get to work in a flash… or at least, all of us SHOULD be.
“Can you three stop licking the dust clouds in the vents and actually do something to help me, PLEASE?!”
A trio of Human giggles was my only response as I leaned forward in concentration.
This game. This brahking game. They should use this for testing for intelligence like those quizzes we took back home, since clearly some people go brain dead trying to do literally anything that isn’t getting in my stars-damned way, or otherwise waste valuable time by huffing the gas coming off the stove!
Finishing up one order of seaweed wraps and lettuce salad, I tried to get back to the kitchen, but was immediately blocked by… a plate on the floor.
“WHO-!! Why is there a plate on the floor?! The counter is literally right there! It’s such a simple job to-” A ding rings out, showing several new orders that needed to be filled. The timer started flashing red as we reached the one ‘minute’ mark.
A deep, frustrated growl builds in my throat, causing my Humans to laugh for some reason, incensing me even further! We all get to work in completing the last orders, however. Things were going well as the Terrans seemed to (finally) get it together to actually make some good food. Sindre had just finished cooking the rice while Ada chopped the carrots. Me and Hailey were putting everything together on the other side and sending it through until—
“Is, oh my stars, did you guys really send over raw rice?! It’s not even partially cooked!! Are you all a bunch of mountain dwellers? Do you eat your dry grass with a side of brahking pebbles and pond scum?! Cook it again!” I threw the rice back, hitting Sindre in the back of the head with the pile of rice, causing his character to fall over with a cartoonish thunk sound effect.
The Germans laughed loudly at the scene, which made my face heat up in frustration. The timer was running short as we waited for the rice to actually be cooked this time.
“Nov’, I, haha, I’m sorry. I’ll get it done this time, have mercy! I thought the last one was done so I-”
My head turned just enough for my eye to be focused solely on the pale Human. “IT WAS BRAHKING RAW!! There's a bar at the top that tells you! Do you need eye surgery?? Can you even pass a driving test??”
More laughter.
“AND STOP LAUGHING AT ME!! IT’S NOT FUNNY!!”
A ding came from the pot to signify it was done. Ada immediately took it out and walked over to the counter to pass it.
“Perfect, now just- what are you doing?”
She wasn’t passing it over. Instead, she was charging up her throw way more than she needed to. I was just about to say something as the clock flashed brightly ‘till she threw the rice at full force.
Directly at my little chef. The rice beamed directly off the side of my character's head, sending me flying away from the plate and sprawled across the kitchen floor as the rice landed gently on the ground.
“ADA!!!!!”
The countdown is drowned out by the humans erupting into laughter as I desperately try and recover. Yet, just as I make it to my feet, the countdown reaches zero, and the mission ends. Defeat fills my chest while the onion man does a little dance to tally up our points.
49600… only two out of three stars…
It’s over…
I slumped against the back of the couch, fury and betrayal stirring in my chest while the predators laughed to each other for several moments. Their raucous, howling laughter eventually started dying down, at least enough for them to actually say something to me.
“Nov’, come on. It’s just a game. I’m, hehehe, I’m sorry okay? We were just having a little fun is all.” She ran her treacherous hands down my back in an effort to calm me, to little effect.
“Dumb game. Stupid… start the next mission…”
She chuckled a bit. “Maybe we should play a different game. You don’t seem real happy playing this one.”
That made my tail flick in light amusement though the frustration. “Now you sound like my Dad…” My anger at the game started to fade more and more, replaced with a growing sensation of guilt. ”I-I think that’s a good idea. Um, sorry about that.”
She removed her hand, but kept her eyes on me and the gooey trail now stringing from her hand. “Eugh… hey, you’re fine. If you can deal with us screaming at each other, then we can handle your little squeaks.”
The other two smiled and nodded in agreement while I looked at her in confusion, feeling a little offended. “My… squeaks? But, um, thank you... W-what's the next game? Hailey’s turn, right?”
On cue, she brushes her mane to the side and starts scrolling down. “Yes, actually! Unlike these two walnuts, I actually picked a relaxing game. A classic. An art piece~” Her hands did a slight flair, yet I remained unmoved.
“Hailey, that's what the other two said too. While those games were… fine, I wouldn’t call them ‘masterpieces.’ Are you sure about this one?” I asked while grabbing another brownie.
I keep eating these things, but I just feel more and more hungry… weird…
The Humans chucked as she selected her game. “Hey, have a little faith in me. I haven't met a Human alive that can say this game is bad. Just watch!”
A flash came from the TV as the game's title came into view.
Minecraft: Anniversary Edition.
“We’ll use one of the worlds we were playing on back on Earth so you can get an idea of what it’s really like. And, uh, make sure it's peaceful too, just in case.”
I took a bite of the treat and settled into my spot, preparing myself for whatever was to come.
{CONTINUED INTO THE COMMENTS}
submitted by Cummy_wummys to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
Thank you to: for proofreading, editing, and this art. Check his fic here!
u/Talentlessfurry for this art.
u/Roddcherry for adding Novel to the charismas party he drew.
u/everyveryever for this art.
u/Emotion-Senior for the meme.
u/Orphandestroyer99 for the comic and art.
u/abrachoo for the meme.
u/guaiwutongzhi for the art.
u/United_Patriots for the art.
u/migulehove for the art(s).
u/aMANTEIGAdo for the art.
u/SlimyRage for the art.
Thank you to each and every one of these amazing people!
CW: Accidental Substance Abuse
Memory Transcription Subject: Novel, Kolshian Scientist and Self-Proclaimed “Gamer God”
Date {standardized human time}: October 19th, 2136
The elevator ride took a lot longer than I would have liked, my excitement and anticipation making it difficult to stand still. Ada’s room was almost at the top floor of the building — along with those of the other members of my herd — making it take a bit longer to get to than most of the other Humans’ I’ve visited while here.
Seems they are keeping the various tribes in their own groups. The fourth floor has the Germans, French, Polish, and Austrians, with a few Danes and Swedes mixed in. I wonder if they did that to keep the different tribes from fighting with ones they don’t like? Doubtful really, everyone seems to get along well enough, disregarding a couple jabs here and there. Probably just makes geographical sense to put them together.
My pondering was broken with a soft ding of the old elevator doors opening. I stepped out of the elevator quickly and took in my surroundings. There were very few humans milling about the quiet halls as they went about their business. One human with comfy-looking pelts had noticed me step out of the elevator and had frozen where they stood. After a short, yet still uncomfortably awkward moment, I gave a wave with one of my upper appendages and walked down a different hall.
A few moments later, I pulled out my pad to look at the message Sindre sent me.
Room 441, hailey and i went to get some stuff for the sesh. ada will be there in a bit. see you soon, {censored}
From: Sindre(Human)
I quickly typed out my own message.
Thank you! I’ll meet you there!
From: Me
Stowing the pad, I made my way there. Along the way I encountered several more Humans, each of which having some sort of reaction to my presence. Mostly just freezing in place or casting glances at me as I walked by. Some of them recognized me, either from when we baked together, or when I was in the rec room when the news dropped and gave me a wave in return. There was one case though when a Terran exited their room, saw me, and let out a noise I can only describe as a squeal before diving back into their room.
That last one confused me to no end, as I had never seen that reaction from a human before. I considered knocking on the door before thinking better of it and continuing down the hall to my destination.
How curious… I'll have to ask Ada about that human and why they ran away from me... Heh, prey scaring predators. Not so long ago, such a concept would’ve been seen as the ultimate goal, any real-world examples derided as only that of a dreamer’s fallacy, and yet now… I don’t think I like the idea so much…
I made a mental note to apologize to them if we ever meet again and kept walking, this time with my form hunched and my pace a little faster than before so I could avoid bothering the Terrans as much. It seemed to work, and the humans seemed to look away a little faster than they had previously.
Arriving at Ada’s door, though, I composed myself as best I could, straightening my back and taking a deep breath to calm myself. I knocked on the door a few times, only for it to open a slight amount. Cocking my head in confusion, I listened to the slight groaning of the hinges before I gently pushed it the rest of the way, the door creaking loudly in resistance.
The room smelled of wax and freshly harvested Othll bark, like I had just walked into the home improvement aisle of a store. Walking further inside showed me the source of the smell, which was a set of candles sitting on top of a nightstand in the corner… next to a fire alarm with the battery taken out.
That’s a little concerning… that can’t be safe at least. I should tell her to put it back in when I see her… wherever she is.
Looking around the room some more showed it to be quite unkempt, with pelts and other junk laying strewn haphazardly across the floor. Personal knick-knacks and picture frames sat on shelves and tables around the room, making the places feel a lot more homely than the other rooms I’d been in. A large TV sat on the other side of the room across from the bed, which had been recently used, going by the blanket on the floor and the pillows tossed about. Against the wall next to the bed was a large couch that had clearly seen better paws, the top layer peeling heavily and scattering the little bits of plastic covering everywhere.
Sitting next to the TV appeared to be some sort of Terran gaming console, complete with bright colors plastered across its many faces and with several different wires coming out of it. Far more than there should be, since part of the case it was in had been smashed to fit more cabling into. Tools, used wires, and broken plastic laid scattered next to the patchwork job.
Seems they really did modify it. Makes sense, since I doubt it would normally work on our systems at all… we should really put that fire alarm back in…
Just as I started walking over to inspect it, my lower tentacle caught something soft on one of the suckers. Looking down showed it to be one of the chest pelts Ada had been wearing the paw I met her. Closer inspection showed the whole floor was covered in discarded pelts, including some I had never seen before!
I let out a sigh as I looked around at the mess… I hope she doesn't mind if I cleaned up a bit.
And that's exactly what I did as I waited for my host to return. It did not take long for me to find the garbage can and hamper she used for her used pelts. While I worked though the piles, I took note of the stranger clothes I saw. Most of them were the regular chest pelts that I’d seen every human wear, but others were completely unique or otherwise somehow unusual.
One such example was what I can only describe as some sort of winter gear? It had a very intricate design on the front made of lace and a very soft interior made of a kind of purple fabric. What made it even more strange was that I found several of these scattered around the room, meaning that she was wearing these pretty regularly too!
Hmmm… perhaps it is meant to keep their ears warm? That would explain the strap on the back, as it would be meant to go under their chin. That doesn’t explain why she would be using it though, and to have so many! It must get cold in here when the A/C kicks in, I guess. This place is really old after all.
Either way, they went into the hamper. I left the tools where they were, in case they belonged to different people, but everything else went straight into the trash. The whole process was pretty exhausting, but the room ended up looking much nicer than it had before!
Just as I finished bagging up the garbage can, the door gave a loud creak as Ada stepped in wearing some pretty comfortable-looking pelts similar to the ones she had been wearing a few paws ago, pink prey head slippers and all.
A few {seconds} pass as she starts pulling out clear totes full of what I assume to be her things before I break out of my confusion and flick her a tail wave.
“Hey Ada! Whe-”
“AAAAHHH!!!”
She screamed as she stumbled onto her back, causing me to drop the bag and jump in fright. We stared at each other for a moment before Ada spoke up.
“Nov’?! What the fuck are you doing in here?! You weren't… ya Allah, you scared the crap out of me!”
My arms and tentacles raised up in a pleading gesture after I realized what I did. “S-sorry! I-I thought you would see me! And Sindre said to meet you here? F-for the games?”
Ada took a few more moments to calm down on the floor, but eventually, she stood up and took a few breaths. “You’re fine, squiddie… Sindre didn’t mention how close you were so… oh well, doesn't matter I guess. Uh, what’s in the bag you got there? Also… where are all of my clothes?”
At her observation, I picked up the trash bag and held it up for her to see. “Well… your room was a bit of a mess, a-and you were gone, so I did a bit of… cleaning? Nothing major, just throwing away some trash and putting the pelts in the hamper.”
“Oh, well, thanks Nov. I was gonna get to that befor-” Suddenly she stops herself mid-sentence. Her eyes widen as she casts her forward-facing gaze over to the pelts’ bin.
For some reason, the human's usual light brown features darken considerably with a crimson bloom. Ada turned to look at me, and I gave my best happy expression I could muster to put her at ease. This time, the human's face twisted into an obvious forced snarl before she gave up, running a hand down her face.
“Novel, j-just a heads up for the future, it’s considered rude to go through someone's room and touch their… pelts without permission. They are, um, quite personal belongings, and we don’t let other people touch certain ones. Fuck, uh, don’t tell the other two about this either. It would be, eugh…” Ada’s snarl gets larger as she looks back to the hamper, the crimson still blooming across her face. My tail flicked curiously as I looked between her and the pelt basket.
How peculiar… Hailey seemed just fine with dumping all sorts of pelts on me when she was showing them off. Perhaps that's because she studies it, so in that case it’s seen as okay? Maybe it has more to deal with how I came in here without her supervision? Predators are known to be territorial in the wild, and the Humans seem to be that way as well with their many borders. Letting someone into your ‘territory’ must be a pretty personal thing in the first place. Which would mean that she must be upset that I just walked in here and started messing with things! Speh!
A tentacle reached out, or up I suppose, to Ada’s shoulder while my tail signaled my sincerest apologies. “I-I am so sorry, Ada. If I knew, I would have never touched anything! Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone! Do you want me to… put it back the way I found it?”
The human seemed to find my appeasement worthy as she let out a quiet laugh. “No, Nov’, you’re just fine. Thanks for cleaning up too, I guess; I was gonna do it myself, but oh well… not something we need to talk about.” She lets out another laugh as she walks over to the modified console and grabs a controller.
Yet, before she could get a word out, there was a sharp knock on the door, followed by it swinging open to reveal the last two members of our herd. Sindre came in first, carrying several different bags filled to the brim with snacks of all varieties. He gave a simple head nod and rushed over to the table by the TV to deposit his haul, dropping a few on the floor in his haste.
Hailey walked in right behind him with a plastic grocery bag over her shoulder filled with many different colored bottles of drink and a tray of small dark-brown squares covered in plastic wrap. Her free hand gave us both a wave while she walked to the table in a much calmer manner, at least when compared to her compatriot.
We both gave our own wave in return while I spoke up. “Hey guys! Welcome! What did you get from the kitchen?”
Hailey set her things down on the table. “Not much. Some dried fruit, chips, cookies, soda, juice, and even some fresh brownies someone made! I assumed they were for the taking since they had a few trays sitting out to cool down, but we didn’t really have time to ask since we kinda rushed up here. Oh, and the kitchen stinks to high hell for some reason. Might have to tell Emmanual about that.”
My head tilted curiously at the information as Ada and Sindre moved the couch over to where I was standing. Once it was in place, I took a seat at the opposite end from Hailey. “Well, I’m glad you got what you wanted! Do you mind if I take one of those, uh, brownies?”
She gave me a hand wave as I reached over and undid the plastic wrap around the treats. They were still quite warm from the kitchen! I took a small bite out of the corner to get a taste of it, only to then gobble up the whole thing in one bite.
This is amazing! It’s like strayu but… richer? With an almost cough medicine aftertaste mixed with that strange spice? Such a strange and yet fascinating combination!
“Such a weird taste… but definitely a good one! Are there any more downstairs?” I asked while covering my mouth as best I could for the sake of manners.
She took one herself and took a small bite. “Yep, at least a couple more trays from what we saw. Though I bet most of those will be gone once word gets around.”
My head nodded solemnly as I picked up another.
Might as well enjoy them while we can!
Ada walked over to me and flicked the space in between my eyes with her fingers. Her other hand passed me a human game controller before taking a seat right next to me. “Save some for us, ya green goblin! Pretty sure we’re meant to share those!”
The humans let out a soft chuckle while my face warmed in embarrassment. Luckily, they didn’t stay focused on it for long before she pointed to the controller. “So, do you need help with that? It’s not exactly built for you.”
Moving it around in my appendages was more than enough to prove that fact, but I tried to give her a dismissive tail wave while sitting down. “Don’t worry… I should be able to make this work…” I said while using all four of my limbs to hold the piece of plastic. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it’ll do the job for now.
“Not the first time I had to do this. There are a lot of different species on Aafa, and some of them have very strange, uh, manipulators… you just have to get used to it.”
There may not have been a lot, or really any other species in my home town, but that college certainly did. Me and Cloyta used to hang out with a few different herds whenever we had the time. That Tilfish remote was an interesting experience to use. Having to use smells to figure out a puzzle in a game like it was normal was really something else.
The TV and console suddenly turned on with a bright flash as Sindre held out a remote towards them both. He used his controller to navigate to a menu on the system to reveal a vast collection of Human games. I grabbed my pad out of my pack to translate some of the games as Sindre scrolled by.
Doom of Kevsar, Helldivers: Super Dating Simulator, Papa’s Pizzeria, Skyrim 2… all these seem fine, I guess. At least not super violent like I thought… A good sign!
Sindre spoke up first as he continued to look through the archive. “Anyway, we were talking the other day about which game to show you first, but we couldn’t agree on what would be the best showcase. So instead of one game voted in from all of us, we are each going to show you a game we think you’ll like best. Sounds good?”
My tail thumped against the back of the couch in acceptance. “Yup! That actually sounds really great! Get to see a wider spectrum of human ‘entertainment!’ Who’s going first?”
“Sindre is…” Hailey speaks up in between bites of her confection, “His system, his pick… still think it’s a dumb fucking game though.” He says as he stops his scrolling and arrives at a very brightly colored preview with several… Humans? Human-like creatures in what look like Dossur vehicles?
He presses a button to select the game as a grin grows on his face. “Hey, Mario Kart Galaxy 3 is a classic! You’re just mad because you’re bad at it.” Sindre turns his head to me while Hailey leans forward. “You’ll love it, I swear. Really shows off the real Humanity we have to hide from you guys.”
“That's for a good reason, you dolt. But it’s your choice…” Hailey said while wiping her hands on a napkin.
I hoped he was right as some cheerful music started playing.
{Memory Transcription Time Advancement: 19 Terran standard minutes…}
Sindre was right! This is fun!
The upbeat music continues to play as I make another turn around a corner, drifting a little to build up some momentum. The ‘Birdo’ creature in my ‘Kart’ does a little dance as I time it right and get a small speed boost, sending me further down the multi-colored track.
“Hmmhmmmhm, hmhmhmm~.” I tried my best to hum along to the music as I continued with the race.
I never would have thought that a racing game could be interesting. Cloyta and I played a few when we were much younger, but they seemed slow in comparison. Usually had a goal at the end as well, like delivering some fruits to a market, or maybe trading on spacefaring merchant vessels in the more complex ones.
It was super fun though! Competing against each other felt a little off, but I wrote it off as a Human cultural thing. A way of bonding, as with most things for them it seems. Other than that, I found the racing to be a lot of fun! There was so much going on, and yet it somehow managed to really keep you aware of everything going on at all times.
A projectile here, a fruit peel trap there, there was so much to think about that I almost forgot to pay attention to the humans! Which, if I weren’t here to study them, might have been a good thing. There were times the competitive nature of the game seemed to draw something else out of them, something I hadn’t expected.
It was… well…
“If I run into one more fucking banana, I will kick you down a flight of stairs and jump on your head from the top step!”
“How the hell did that hit ME!? Broken fucking hitboxes in this shitty ass game!”
“GET YOUR CRUSTY TOAD ASS OFF ME BEFORE I RIP YOU ASSHOLE TO ASSHOLE!!!”
…intense.
My enjoyment of the game seemed to be pretty one-sided unfortunately. Even by the already high standards of the Humans’ previous banter, this was truly something else. While I was still learning the game and slowly climbed up the leaderboard, the Humans all led the herd by taking the top 3 spots every time. They were so close together in some of the races that it was nearly impossible to tell who would win until the last moment, making their yelling even more vicious and bloodthirsty.
There were times I thought they were about to get physically violent with each other once it got to the final lap, but thankfully, it never came to that, aside from maybe some light pushing. Their… banter? Fighting? Uh… verbal abuse towards each other made learning the game a lot harder too since every time I tried to ask a question, my voice would get drowned out in all the yelling. They did show me the basic controls before we started, but it’s a little hard to ask for pointers when your coaches are threatening severe bodily harm against each other.
As I drifted around another sharp turn, my mind wandered back to what Sindre said when we’d first started:
‘Really shows off the real Humanity we have to hide from you guys.’
Was this supposed to be the ‘real Humanity’? I sure hope not… I think I’d prefer if they actually came to blows instead of continuing this barrage of foulness they are constantly spewing. They don’t even seem to be enjoying it! They have to be doing it for a reason… right?
I continued to think as I continued down the track and finished my second lap. The argument was starting to build up again as the stakes started to rise.
“Oh, yeah, of course you get a red shell in 2nd and I get fucking bananas in 3RD! Gotta love this piece of shit game!!” Hailey shouted, leaning forward like she was about to pounce on the TV.
“Not my fault you can’t aim for shit, dumbass! Just throw better!” Sindre quipped back.
“How about I throw you out a five story window?! I mean, I would if your fatass wouldn't snap the floorboards if I tried!” Ada finished it as he gave her an aggressive shove with his shoulder.
Yet, unlike how I expected, she didn’t push back. That's what makes this all so confusing! Each time they antagonize each other, the other person does it back, and they just stop! Their words sound like they mean it to hurt, and their actions reflect that… but they aren’t acting on it.
Hmm… the ‘real Humanity’, huh… Maybe I’m approaching this the wrong way? Something less about who the Humans are, so to speak, but more how they feel? They’ve been awfully emotional in every interaction I’ve ever had with them… Aggressive, too, admittedly. Maybe… maybe this is a way for them to vent some of that aggression safely? Around people they really trust with a game you can complain about, but demands too much attention to leave them to do more than yell at each other? Things have been rather… stressful, lately.
My tail thumped a few more times against the dilapidated couch, sending a few more puffs of stuffing into the air. The theory kind of lined up with what I knew, but I was here with the primary source for a reason, after all. I would just ask them, but…
“I am going to FUCKING DEEPFRY THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM {Ass Violin}!!!”
They were busy.
They seem pretty angry… but if it helps them deal with their stress, then I am just fine with it. I’m glad they are getting through it in their own… ‘special’ Human way.
In any case, it was still better than damming it all up until it overflowed and someone really got hurt. Safe in the knowledge that the Humans (probably) wouldn’t actually attack each other, I just resolved to focus on the game instead. The third and final lap was coming around, and things were starting to ramp up even further. The Humans’ false violence got even louder, and coupled with the occasional and really rather distracting limb shooting out and the rapidly intensifying music, my poor heart was not in the best condition as our racers closed in on the finish line.
But then, all of a sudden, something very strange happened. The Humans simultaneously began to curse louder than ever before, screaming and wailing as an odd blue indicator flashed along the top of the screen, indicating some kind of blue spiky ball rapidly approaching us from behind. All three of them illogically slammed on the brakes, clearly trying to dodge the oncoming projectile, but it was to no avail. The ball flew right past my ‘Kart’ and struck the center of the tightly crowded humans, unleashing an explosion of blue fire that stunned all three.
Allowing my Kart, driving at maximum speed in hopes of any shot at outrunning the projectile, to shoot right past them and cross the finish line first.
Wait… what?
A brief silence hung in the air at what just happened until my arms went up in the air
“Hey, look! I won! Hehehe! I didn’t know I would get so lucky on my first try! Is that sort of thing… common…?”
I stopped my celebration as all the Humans were giving me very intense looks with their stares. They lacked the familiar friendliness most Humans looked at me with, but instead seemed much… angrier.
Speh, right. They are still mad from before, and now I just beat them at their own race… O-okay, they don’t mean it, they are upset and need to let it out. Just have to get through it.
Seeing what was about to happen, I curled in on myself and braced myself for the barrage of verbal slurry coming my way. A moment passed as I waited for the insults to fly but… they never came? Opening an eye revealed the Human’s expressions had changed from fury to…
Amusement?
“You alright there Nov’? You’re shaking pretty bad… Was that too much?” Ada asked in a quiet voice while patting me on the back roughly. It took a moment for my brain to catch up before I could speak again.
“O-oh, uh, sorry, I thought you all were going to… yell at me? Like you did with each other?” My voice was a little shaky as I unfurled myself.
All of the Germans seemed to wince a little at that. “Yeah… fuck, sorry about that. Mario Kart is a pretty rage-inducing game. Shoulda thought about that beforehand.”
My tail attempted to signal calm while trapped behind me. “N-no, it’s fine… I did learn a lot actually. It was fun too, besides the yelling part. Um, can we move on though? I think I’ve got enough out of this one.”
Sindre exits the game with a nod while the others let out deep sighs. “Yeah, sorry Nov’. It’s one of the most popular party games Humanity ever made, so I figured it would be a good one to show you. Next is… Ada’s pick… we sure we should do this one?”
The woman turned her head to look at Sindre. “Positive. They have a vegan option in the settings, so it’s not going to get us arrested or anything. Plus, it's a cooperative party game! Feds seem to love that whole ‘herd’ thing, and Nov’ liked the last one so I’m sure it’ll be fine!”
She gave a dismissive hand wave before turning back to me. “It’ll be fine, really. I played this game as a kid all the time, no need to panic, right?” She seemed a little worried at the end of that sentence, so I tried to put on a brave face.
“S-sounds great! What’s it about?” I mentally chastised myself for my stutter and reached towards the table to grab another pastry. “Ahem. There’s nothing predatory in it, right?”
She grabs one herself and a glass of an orange fizzy drink. “Nope, none at all! Just some harmless cooking with your friends! You’ll love it!” Her enthusiasm helped me calm down as the game started booting up on screen.
Overcooked 5: Season of Seasoning.
Looks cheerful at least. Cooking is fun too… It’ll be fine, yeah.
I took a bite out of my brownie as the game's main menu music started to play.
{Memory Transcription Time Advancement: 23 Standard Terran Minutes…}
You know… I think I get it.
A soft relaxing track played in the background as the four little chefs on screen ran around doing various tasks needed to keep the kitchen functioning, like preparing vegetables, or washing dishes. A timer at the top of the screen was slowly counting down while a little ‘onion’ next to it with a Human face rambled on about something or other.
Orders start coming in quick, and all of us get to work in a flash… or at least, all of us SHOULD be.
“Can you three stop licking the dust clouds in the vents and actually do something to help me, PLEASE?!”
A trio of Human giggles was my only response as I leaned forward in concentration.
This game. This brahking game. They should use this for testing for intelligence like those quizzes we took back home, since clearly some people go brain dead trying to do literally anything that isn’t getting in my stars-damned way, or otherwise waste valuable time by huffing the gas coming off the stove!
Finishing up one order of seaweed wraps and lettuce salad, I tried to get back to the kitchen, but was immediately blocked by… a plate on the floor.
“WHO-!! Why is there a plate on the floor?! The counter is literally right there! It’s such a simple job to-” A ding rings out, showing several new orders that needed to be filled. The timer started flashing red as we reached the one ‘minute’ mark.
A deep, frustrated growl builds in my throat, causing my Humans to laugh for some reason, incensing me even further! We all get to work in completing the last orders, however. Things were going well as the Terrans seemed to (finally) get it together to actually make some good food. Sindre had just finished cooking the rice while Ada chopped the carrots. Me and Hailey were putting everything together on the other side and sending it through until—
“Is, oh my stars, did you guys really send over raw rice?! It’s not even partially cooked!! Are you all a bunch of mountain dwellers? Do you eat your dry grass with a side of brahking pebbles and pond scum?! Cook it again!” I threw the rice back, hitting Sindre in the back of the head with the pile of rice, causing his character to fall over with a cartoonish thunk sound effect.
The Germans laughed loudly at the scene, which made my face heat up in frustration. The timer was running short as we waited for the rice to actually be cooked this time.
“Nov’, I, haha, I’m sorry. I’ll get it done this time, have mercy! I thought the last one was done so I-”
My head turned just enough for my eye to be focused solely on the pale Human. “IT WAS BRAHKING RAW!! There's a bar at the top that tells you! Do you need eye surgery?? Can you even pass a driving test??”
More laughter.
“AND STOP LAUGHING AT ME!! IT’S NOT FUNNY!!”
A ding came from the pot to signify it was done. Ada immediately took it out and walked over to the counter to pass it.
“Perfect, now just- what are you doing?”
She wasn’t passing it over. Instead, she was charging up her throw way more than she needed to. I was just about to say something as the clock flashed brightly ‘till she threw the rice at full force.
Directly at my little chef. The rice beamed directly off the side of my character's head, sending me flying away from the plate and sprawled across the kitchen floor as the rice landed gently on the ground.
“ADA!!!!!”
The countdown is drowned out by the humans erupting into laughter as I desperately try and recover. Yet, just as I make it to my feet, the countdown reaches zero, and the mission ends. Defeat fills my chest while the onion man does a little dance to tally up our points.
49600… only two out of three stars…
It’s over…
I slumped against the back of the couch, fury and betrayal stirring in my chest while the predators laughed to each other for several moments. Their raucous, howling laughter eventually started dying down, at least enough for them to actually say something to me.
“Nov’, come on. It’s just a game. I’m, hehehe, I’m sorry okay? We were just having a little fun is all.” She ran her treacherous hands down my back in an effort to calm me, to little effect.
“Dumb game. Stupid… start the next mission…”
She chuckled a bit. “Maybe we should play a different game. You don’t seem real happy playing this one.”
That made my tail flick in light amusement though the frustration. “Now you sound like my Dad…” My anger at the game started to fade more and more, replaced with a growing sensation of guilt. ”I-I think that’s a good idea. Um, sorry about that.”
She removed her hand, but kept her eyes on me and the gooey trail now stringing from her hand. “Eugh… hey, you’re fine. If you can deal with us screaming at each other, then we can handle your little squeaks.”
The other two smiled and nodded in agreement while I looked at her in confusion, feeling a little offended. “My… squeaks? But, um, thank you... W-what's the next game? Hailey’s turn, right?”
On cue, she brushes her mane to the side and starts scrolling down. “Yes, actually! Unlike these two walnuts, I actually picked a relaxing game. A classic. An art piece~” Her hands did a slight flair, yet I remained unmoved.
“Hailey, that's what the other two said too. While those games were… fine, I wouldn’t call them ‘masterpieces.’ Are you sure about this one?” I asked while grabbing another brownie.
I keep eating these things, but I just feel more and more hungry… weird…
The Humans chucked as she selected her game. “Hey, have a little faith in me. I haven't met a Human alive that can say this game is bad. Just watch!”
A flash came from the TV as the game's title came into view.
Minecraft: Anniversary Edition.
“We’ll use one of the worlds we were playing on back on Earth so you can get an idea of what it’s really like. And, uh, make sure it's peaceful too, just in case.”
I took a bite of the treat and settled into my spot, preparing myself for whatever was to come.
{CONTINUED INTO THE COMMENTS}
2024.05.13 06:47 za_dorov Have you ever had that feeling that absolutely everything you do and think is pre-digitated? Programmed? I think my friend accidentally found proof.
A few days ago, I received a file from a journalist friend who teaches at a private university in Montevideo. I known this person for years now and the exchange with her on our countless bar nights basically made me want to try to study journalism. After I started my career we became even closer and we shared concerns about the evolution of information, social media and the infamous cerebral callosity we acquired to endure the tragedy.
My friend, let's call her Valeria, was part of a public competition to accompany a minor scientific expedition to the Uruguayan Antarctic base. Her thesis was about investigating how information reception behaves in remote and isolated areas.
I barely read it , but basically tries to show that information circulates and is received in a particular way in these circumstances by a group of unfamiliar people living under extreme climatic and isolation conditions, having as an example, life in submarines and in military bases in Siberia. The Antarctic base gave her the chance to observe some of her postulates up close.
Finally, she was chosen and traveled with this scientific group in a commercial flight Montevideo - Santiago de Chile to later arrive at Punta Arenas and fly to the Antarctic base.
The last communication I had with her before she sent me the almost 90 photographic captures of the Journal, was on March 15, 2024.
We talked over the phone about how the weather was in Montevideo, that it does not stop raining and the cars are practically floating on the streets. She told me that the transport that was going to take them back was having mechanical problems and they would probably have to order spare parts for the plane from Punta Arenas. Then She told me that it is freaking cold down there and his colleagues are all very boring. Nobody has whisky for the evenings. We laughed about that part because I told her to bring at least one bottle of Grappa in her purse.
Before saying goodbye, she told me they had spotted some old metal structures south of the base. The soldiers told her that it was safe to go near that part so she was going to explore them. It wasn't there when they first arrived and that the recent and atypical heat wave probably must have exposed it. I told her to be careful and we said goodbyes.
Three days later I received an email. “Valeria shared a file with you.” As I start to see what it was about she calls me.
“Mauro? MAURO!, can you hear me?” She said in a nervous and excited voice.
“I can barely hear you, what happened?”I asked half asleep, while still lying on my bed.
“Listen to me carefully, don't talk, just listen” I could tell by her agitation that she was walking fast or maybe running. The creaking footsteps in the snow could be heard in the background. in the distance, a catastrophe-type siren was blaring.
“Are you alright? What happened? What's that noise?” I said, now sitting on the edge of my bed.
“I sent you a file. Transfer it to a flash drive, delete history and reset your cell phone, the computer and your email address. I'll explain everything later, it'll be worth it.”
“What? What are you talking about Vale?, what for? Tell me what's going on - I started to yell at her, in slide panic.
“Listen, I found something that is not supposed to exist. In the diary he explains everything. I'm going back to the base, I think someone is following me, I set off an alarm or something. Save that file for me until I get there and remember that... “
There were two loud booms and the sound of water invading the transmission. A choked bubbling and cracking sound reminded me of ice collapsing. My friend had fallen into the water, in Antarctica.
“HEY, are you OK?! What happened?!” - I kept screaming hysterically until the call was cut off.
I looked at my cell phone for a second. My hands were shaking, I tried calling several times but the phone went dead. I looked at the compressed file. I jumped up and ran to the dining room furniture, frantically looking for a white flash drive that had to be in a drawer somewhere. I couldn't find it, so I went back to my desk. I pulled the drawer so hard that it came off the rail and fell to the floor. I started to dig through my belongings on the floor, coins, papers, cards, nothing.
I thought, I struggled to remember where I had fucking put it. Finally I saw my backpack peeking out from behind the desk chair, I jumped on it and in the second small pocket from the inside, there was a cheap white 16G flash drive. I put it in the pc, downloaded the file directly there, took it out and fabric restored the entire system on the computer. I do the same with my cell phone as Valeria said.
At the time I didn't even question if those measures really prevented me from being tracked, and the idea that that was the reason made panic run through my body like lightning. Sitting on the floor of my room next to the mess, my body was numb with tension. After a few seconds, I rebooted my cell phone to try to call Lucia, her sister.
“Hello?”
“Lucia, it's that you? I think something bad happened to Vale, I hear her over the phone as if she fell into the water, and some rumbling. I don't know what I heard, I think she got into some trouble or some place she shouldn't have been - I realized that I was mumble and not saying anything clear. For some reason, I didn't mention the file.
“It can't be Mauro, I just spoke to her on the phone. She was at the airport in Santiago de Chile at the boarding lounge, we talked for about half an hour, she told me she was bringing a fancy bourbon to share and…”
I stopped listening, it didn't make sense, how could it be? what the fuck is going on!
“Mauro, are you ok? Is something wrong? it's too early, are you sure you didn't dream it?”
“Did you talk to her? half an hour ago? But...,” I exclaimed without being able to hide my confusion.
“Are you... sure it was her?”
“Yes, of course you moron, it's my sister! Did you smoke pot again on an empty stomach?”
“No, you're right, nevermind, thanks Lucia, talk to you soon.” I ended the call without letting her say goodbye.
Had I dreamt about it? I erased everything now, how will I know if I dreamt it? I hesitated absurdly.
This is surreal, I thought to myself as I looked at the flash drive in my hand. I refocused my attention and went to the attic looking for my brother's old laptop he left me before going to live in Spain. It was practically useless, but it was enough to see the file. I turned it on, waited for the decrepit Windows XP to load, and put the flashdisk in, opened the compressed folder and found two files.
“LabNotes.pdf”
“PersonalDiary.pdf”
I decided to open the journal first. From what I interpreted from the loading order of the screenshots, after reading it, I opened the image of the last page.
I transcribe as is.
Day 243 of the 2nd mission 10: 40 am. March 12, 2019.
I am the head researcher of the Psychological Area at the UN Antarctic base; I'm currently assigned to Project Sisyphus categorized as the highest classified rank.
This is going to sound crazy, but the person living with my family is my clone.
It still surprises me when I say it out loud, but after being able to replicate the brain-muscular history (a perfect copy of our memory) of any person and having mastered replicating every cell of our bodies at any age, it was only a matter of time before the development of social biotechnology would emerge. Now and by worldwide agreement, as a complete secret.
There is absolutely no shame or a shred of ethics in what we do, there is no longer any constraint on what we can do to the subjects for the sake of research. That haunts me every day.
It all went to shit so fast, I doubt anyone will come to our rescue. The protocol says so, the base in the face of an imminent security risk will erase itself. The structure was designed to collapse methodically following a protocol of incineration and sinking. The immediate perimeter has underwater mines that make the ice collapse almost imperceptibly, but deadly to anyone who tries to leave.
No one can escape from the base, neither the research staff nor the subjects. Our place in the world is already taken.
I only hope that this journal along with my lab notes will be found at some point. I managed to construct a small insulating gasket for it so I trust it will survive in case this part of the building collapses as well.
Please use this data to let the world know what happened here and don't let perversity define us once again.
To my family: I love you and miss you every minute.
B.
At the exact moment I ended the reading I received a video call that made me jump with fright, it is...
Valeria.
With my pulse shaking, I answered the call.
“Hi you! The flight was delayed, can you believe it? This one is absolutely in my top three, worst trips of my life. I'm really hungry and everything is so expensive here. What are you up to? Tell me something, please, I'm soooo bored!”
I looked at her with confusion and I couldn't manage to pronounce words. When I was about to modulate an answer she interrupted me.
“What's the matter Mauro?, are you on pause? Is the signal OK? HELLO! Can you hear me? Can you see me?” She started to walk through the boarding lounge looking for better signal
“Yes yes, Valeria I can hear you.”
She laughed and looked at me with a face between sensual and serious, and continued.
“Do you miss me?” while raising the phone jokingly as she typically does in her selfie pose.
“Valeria, don't you remember calling me earlier today?”
“I? called you? Nop. Why? Ah! By the way, did you know there are penguins in Tierra del Fuego? I would have liked to go and see them.” She continued his verbose conversation in a carefree tone, with her typical hand gestures and playing with his hair.
“Well, at last!” She interrupted herself and shouted, jumping up from her chair.
“We are being called to board, see you in a couple hours!” She said goodbye with a smiling sonority, and began to walk towards the boarding gate.
But at the last second, before ending the call, her gesture changed. She looked directly at the camera with a hardened and emotionless face and almost mechanically, she whispered.
“(I'm going to retrieve that diary).”
My stomach dropped to the floor and I could feel as if my blood was running cold with fear. I could not shake the awful and eerie feeling that this person, who was returning, whom I had never in my life called by her full name, was not my friend.
So, the next couple of hours I put everything in to transcribe the rest of important passages of the diary. Something was compelling me to do it, i can't explain it, Some mix between moral duty, and morbid curiosity. Here is my selection of it.
Lab notes. day 96 of 1st mission 08:00 am December 22, 2016.
Subject JON X012:
First physical assessments: Normal, alert and inquisitive, exhibits some alteration to screens.
We place 100 cc of sedative in room air. The subject attentively follows the narrative of scenario B5 “The last mission”.
The subject responds positively to the premises of the story, where he is asked to address an audience threatened by a natural disaster, convincing them to choose a certain path out of the city.
He offers to collaborate but fails to articulate the message with the power to overcome the simulation.
We resort to pouring 125cc of concentrated Psilocybin into the air as stipulated in the protocol sheet.
The vocal frequency and body language reading receptors in the observation room are activated. The subject manages to formulate a series of premises articulately and with discursive power, circulating around the observation room.
Successful reaction.
We move on to the next stage.
Case is filed under the label “Jobs Project.”
Diary entry: Day 96 of the 1st mission 21:30 pm. December 22, 2016.
Today they transferred subject JON X0012 for psychological evaluation, several in the lab were very anxious about this arrival. I was never the religious type, but I can understand why. Truth be told,
I always imagined Jesus would be taller.
*********
Day 106 of the 1st mission 08:00 am January 02, 2017
Today we received a new lab assistant for the night shift. Much needed as I was covering these shifts myself and am really burned out. The underground operates at full power at those hours, the hum of the machinery becomes unbearable. This must be why the rooms have an insulating structure.
********
Day 112 of the 1st mission 19:00 pm January 08, 2017.
The new integration is not very bright. He labeled the transcripts wrong again yesterday and doesn't seem to fully understand the importance of these. I'm going to have to go through the whole method with him again. I don't have much patience lately, it's not his fault, he seems like a nice guy and it's real that I need a second of confidence. Better train him from now on. Maybe start a sketch of a short explanatory document.
*******
Small introductory guide.
When the subjects conclude the incubation and breeding process (pages 19 to 52 of the manual), that is to say, that they have at least remembered speech and with it, depending on the time in which they lived, reading and writing, they generally begin to perceive themselves. Just before situational curiosity is when the psychology department comes into action. Either to run the “stand by” simulation or the main tests.
In each subject's file is the target of their cloning, the era in which they lived, and the recommended scenarios to trigger the desired response. If the file has X amount on the cover, this corresponds to the generation of the subject, whether it is the first or 10th time it is incubated.
Generally, it takes between 2 and 5 attempts to generate the correct simulation, and administer the appropriate drugs.
It took 5 attempts to come up with the correct amount of methamphetamine that subject AH X005 (Hitler) needed to function in the scenario, as the correct amount bordered on overdose.
Simulations are much easier since the implementation of multisensor AI. We managed to generate almost any scenario including temperature, smells, lights and sounds. We tried not to use familiar ones, as human smells are impossible to replicate. We found this out in a complicated way. We tried to recreate a conversation between RR subject X003 (Reagan) and his mother, but he recognized the fakery by the absence of body odor. His mind collapsed and we had to move him to the Underground. The people in Area C (Private Clients) almost lost a very large Chinese account.
After calibrating the subject, we ran both psychological and behavioral tests, scanned retinas, analyzed blood, as well as vocal and body language. But what has really yielded surprising results are the free interviews. It is amazing what some minds are capable of with the right environmental and chemical stimulation. That's why transcription is vital (!!)
Our area develops BC (Behavioral Algorithms) which are then bought by the private sector, and some government agencies.
To give you some examples: Twitter was an idea of subject JO X008 (Orwell).
Bots in social media and the use of big data was an idea of JG X002 (Goebbels) and KM X014`s worst nightmare (Marx) was bought by Amazon.
It is an arduous process and the success rate is low, but when we achieve the goal per subject, well, these results are a mein part of the latest revolutions of mankind.
So follow the lab rules, never refer to subjects by their actual historical name, and always remember, they are assets, not people.
***********
Day 117 of the 1st mission 16:30 am January 12, 2017.
Today is a rest day all over area D. I miss many things from the old world that I thought I would never miss, taking a bus, standing in line with strangers, and today I miss Sundays. We only have one on the month. So as usual we gather in the rest area to listen to a liberated jukebox that tries to lighten the mood. I know, right? Why I wrote about this “Saturday” photocopy, well besides the same nostalgic drunks, I was approached by a person I didn't recognize.
From what I understood he was a rehabilitated alcoholic, maybe that's why I didn't see him on “Saturdays”. He must be in his 50's, he was portly and wore thick black-rimmed glasses, he seemed to have a slight limp, I noticed it when he went to refill my beer.
I am a very reserved person and find it hard to talk to people. Truth be told, I've lost the desire to talk to people here. What can you actualy fucking talk about here, if it's not about the same thing. Everything revolves around work and some inter-area gossip, which never escalates much.
But yesterday was Clara's birthday and to hide the remorse and sadness of only having shared with her the first 3 years of her life, I had a few too many beers.
We chatted about banal aspects of life in isolation, and the things we miss. For him it was going to the stadium to watch soccer with his grandchildren. I think it was loneliness and nostalgia that brought us together that night.
His name was Sigfried, I don't know if I spelled it right, but it was clearly Nordic, i notice because of some of the words he mixed up with English. He works as the underground level security manager. We all know that it is one of the most restricted areas and what we have learned in these almost 10 years in the project, is that the more restricted, the less questions you should ask.
But that day, I think I felt the urge to hurt myself, to go off the rails, so I asked what we all suspected but no one knew for sure. I asked about the blenders. I wish I hadn't.
************
Day 126 of the 1st mission 08:00 am January 21, 2017.
I almost can't express how furious I am today, but I'm going to try because if I don't, I'm going to punch the new assistant in the face. He has nothing to do with this, he's just mildly irritating.
Anyway, in Genetic Mapping or area A, they approved the incubation of another Anomaly. It seems to be an express request from a major shareholder and there is not much to say. Anomalies are very risky to reproduce, nature is wise, and for some reason it placed them in history moments where they had their limitations.
It seems that after the crisis of 2010 with “The Russian Devil” it is no longer scary enough. New school morons... If they had been there they wouldn't even dare to think about it. I AM FURIOUS.
The arguments are that this case lived longer, that the clone would be in his 70s, and that he possessed noticeably more “civilized” traits. As if the court of the last Zar had not been somewhat civilized.
Personally I think this is a big mistake. Since the discovery that some people possess unknown DNA components and with the 2010 background, they should draw the line. There are certain things, still beyond our ability to understand. But it is delusional of me to think that there are limits, someday the absence of them will consume us all.
************
Lab notes day 142 of 1st mission 08:00 am February 06, 2017.
Final free interview with JON subject X012
Scenario B-24 or “The Dinner Party” Result: Normal.
Notes: Subject is grateful, positive, docile and hopeful for the future. Offers to cook next time by asking for spices and ingredients of typical Hindu dishes.
The subject is directed to the Underground area.
Attached audio for transcription.
Case is filed under the label “Jobs Project”.
**********
Day 142 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 06, 2017.
Today was the last session with subject JON X012, I managed to extract the last retinal and body language readings, as usual before sending them to Underground level. We ran the dinner scenario, the truth is that is one of the best simulations we have achieved. The subjects are relaxed resulting in the best free interview environment. This one was no exception, I must say I understand the charm of the “messiah” turned out to be quite an entertaining subject. I hope his next generation will be similar.
**********
Day 152 of the 1st mission 19:00 pm February 16, 2017.
I was tasked with the continuous monitoring of subject NT X004. I am not at all happy with this transfer. First of all, I know nothing about area B of engineering and technology. Secondly, I still think this is a really bad idea.
One of the laboratories has been set up with the essential simulation equipment and personnel. Tomorrow we start with the calibration.
**********
Lab notes day 153 of the 1st mission 08:00 am February 17, 2017.
First interview with subject NT X004, we run simulation scenario 54-A, “Signal from another planet.”
Subject is observed to be receptive at first but quickly changes to paranoid. We administer 300cc of MDMA via air, according to protocol.
We introduce the reconstructed figure of a colleague in a cry for help speech.
The Subject laughs and doesn't believe a word, we move to a physical approach plane,
I volunteer myself with a room operator from the engineering area, we show him unfinished plans of an experimental vacuum propulsion engine.
He laughs again and tells us that we are not who we say we are.
We administer 50cc of DMT and move on to the next scenario.
From the screen an astronaut with non-human features sends a distress signal and intergalactic coordinates.
The subject looks thoughtful, reassesses, picks up the blueprints and begins to shout out values and what appears to be mathematical and physical formulas.
Air is charged with percentages of absolute sedation.
Audio recording is attached.
It is filed under the name “Project SpaceX.”
**********
Day 153 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 17, 2017.
I'm not sure what happened today, this is the first time in 10 years that a subject overcame the deception of 3 simulations. We had to place absolute sedation in the air, as risky as we know it is. I recommended that we restart the process from scratch, but it was a resounding no, the client is in a hurry.
I need to get more involved in this case to recalibrate the subject. I don't know if I want to. The words before full sedation still resonate with me. “are you still using DC current? interesting...”
**********
Day 154 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 18, 2017.
Something happened, I don't quite know what. The rooms have an emergency lockdown active. Outside hear security personnel mobilizing. I tried the intercom but it didn't work. The insulation prevents my screams from being heard from the outside. If this goes on another day I'm going to break the lock. I'm going to set my backpack to the bare minimum.
**********
Day 157 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 21, 2017.
Yesterday I heard explosions in the B area. I couldn't take it anymore and broke the lock. Whatever it was I had to go out and see. The corridors were dark, and the underground buzzer went on, at least that worked.
I went right to the north staircase, down the 4 floors in near darkness, the power was failing. The entrance to the underground area was barricaded but I managed to see a figure peeking out from inside as they felt me making noises.
It was Sigfried, he pointed me in the doors direction and I entered through a heavily armored side door. I was surprised by the immensity of this section, it encompassed a large hall below almost all the sectors of the base. In front of us there were 4 large industrial pipes with switches and multiple smaller pipes coming out of their bases. These were repeated like mosaics throughout the area until they disappeared into the distance in the darkness.
Leaning against one of them were 3 officers in formerly white coats and a nearly dead guard bloodied on the floor. Poor guy, his legs were crushed with his flesh in the open. He was lying in a pool of his own blood.
He had a blank stare and was panting, it seemed from the pale of his skin, that his fate was imminent. My asthma began to pound in my chest sharply, so I reached into my bag looking for my inhaler. I told them between visible gasps of bad breath to please tell me what's happened.
One of the doctors had a badge from area B and another from area E which corresponds to bio-armamentistics. The latter burst into tears and said “We deserve it, every one of us, we deserve it”.
I knew the other guy, he is an engineer in area B. I could hear him babbling almost nonsensically about, as why they never thought about it, an issue with electrical power.
He looked at me carefully as if recognizing me and grabbed me tightly by my jacket pulling me close to his face transformed for the panic.
“He let them out, all of them!” but not only that, no no no no... he told them the truth. Nikola fucking Tesla hacked us and told them the truth.”
He began to laugh frantically with a face of absurdity until he burst into a choked cry. At that moment everything went dark. The emergency lights activated, and from far away and getting closer, along with the emergency sirens that began to sound, we heard a large mass of people screaming and running through the corridors outside.
Sigfried looked at me as they started to pound on the shielded door and said.
“We're fucked.”
**************
Day xx of the second mission, month xx of 2017
“()The industrial sounds of spinning blades, the cries for mercy followed by the thunderous, liquid crack, down that big pipe, into the green barrels, with the Monsanto logo, dripped down one side an elongated drop of pink paste ending in the letter E on the chemical label. FERTILIZER.”
**********
After finishing the transcription, my whole body began to want to flee, the walls of my house were tinged with a faint blue light as the cloudy dusk came through the window, the lights turned off by my abstraction at the computer gave way to the dark corridors that began to feel alien. As I gently closed the pc my ears began to ring as if under pressure, my breathing became more present and the vibration of my cell phone interrupted my trance.
A call from the office. It was to tell me that I had a vacation week pending, that by schedule, I had to take it starting today.
Sons of bitches, now they even choose your time off - I thought at first, but at the same time I found the voice on the phone very strange, and to tell the truth, the procedure itself.
The anger turned into confusion that only added to the paranoia. The sounds in the street began to seem erratic, a chaotic and strangely familiar feeling came over me. My senses seemed increasingly acute, and they screamed:
Go away.
I grabbed the old laptop, the flash drive and headed for the bus station. The short trip from my house seemed like a long journey. People on the street looked at me with strange faces, the cell phone kept ringing with unknown numbers on the screen and a strange idea began to formulate in my head that whispered “Them, Valeria is one of Them”.
Already on the platforms I rummaged through my backpack where I confirmed that I had the key to the family beach house in San Luis, 60 km to the east of Montevideo. I turned off my cell phone, got on a bus heading to another and much far away town called Treinta y Tres. Sat near the last seat and slipped my cell phone in my front pocket of the seat in front of me, got off and commented to the driver with a clueless face, “I got confused, I'm going to the coast”.
I almost jumped onto the steps of the correct bus to where I was heading, unable to avoid the gazes of the passengers questioning me for the last minute drop in. I sat in my numbered seat and defragmented in dissociation, trying to understand what I was doing, I was running away, but from what?
The images of the last transcriptions were engraved in my mind, the last paragraph was repeated over and over again making me shake my head from time to time trying to get them away from my thoughts. The road was dark and I lost track of time, the digital clock within sight of the passengers jingling since we left, reading 10:40.
“San Luis Station!” - I heard the guard's shout in low volume.
I staggered to my feet, hurried to get off and with the same impulse I entered the dirt roads.
I zig-zagged through the dark, cold and silent beach town. The moonless night and the smell of the sea calmed me.
When I turned the corner to the gabled beach house of my family, on the steps of the front door lit by a white light, was her. Sitting, waiting for me. I stopped dead in my tracks and a chilling vertigo ran down my torso to my throat. We looked at each other for a short two seconds, until she stopped and started walking in sliding steps towards me, smiling and playing with her hands, crossing and uncrossing her arms. The growing sound of the wind through the trees covered us.
“Darling, how are you? How nice is the summer house, I don't think we ever came here, did we? Is it the one your grandmother left you?”
I felt the adrenaline rushing through my bloodstream, how could such a familiar attitude from such a familiar person transmit such panic to me? I had to answer something.
“Yes, this is it. I came to clear my head for a while, they gave me a few days at work and I wanted to take advantage of it.” I tried to excuse myself with failed dissimulation, since I stuttered in the middle of the words.
“Yes, I know! We arranged it with them, so you can be more relaxed and as a gesture for taking care of the file. Ah! and another thing. I think someone stole your cell phone at the bus station.” She looked at me with a smart-ass smile.
“Anyway, don't worry, they already found it on a bus on the way to “Treinta y tres”. You can get it back later.”
At this point I opened my mouth to ask for explanations, but as terrified as I was I only mumbled a “thank you”.
All this dialogue let us half a body length away, Valeria looked at me now a little more serious and stood at my side. She took my arm petrified and I could feel how a strong smell of neutral soap invaded me, as if she had rubbed herself in it too much.
“Shall we go inside? it's getting cold,” She said, finishing the sentence with a sweet gesture of pleading.
“Emm, shure.” I said.
My trembling hands managed to hit the lock on the 3rd attempt, we entered, turned on the lights and from his backpack she took out a red wine. Our favorite.
“Bring me some glasses, Mauro”. - She said to me as she sat down on the armchair against the window overlooking the gentle hills outside.
She poured wine until he almost filled the ex-cottage cheese glass, looked at me and in a toast gesture said.
“To... Dr. B?”
I slid a little smile and raised my eyebrows. Then I took half a glass in one sip.
“Well!” - She exclaimed, leaning over and resting the glass on the coffee table, and continued.
"You must be very confused, I understand, I saw it many times, the mind trying to adapt to a new, unsuspected reality and in your case all at once. It is not easy. First, make sure that no one is going to hurt you or anyone you know, second, what you read in that file, as you may have noticed, is not intended for public knowledge. Also to tell you”. I couldn't take the stress anymore, I exploded.
“You're not Vale. Who are you?! You're almost identical, but....”
“Ah yes, that one it's a tricky one to explain. Let's try, let's see:
“I'm a version of Valeria that she accidentally gendered when entered the lab. In one of the incubation rooms she touched a scan button that photographs her mind for 48 hours. It contains a micro needle that took her blood and thus generated me.”
“The thing is that we were in a situation of self-destruction of the systems, and that part of the programming code of the protocol was also copied in Valeria's mind.”
“And Valeria? She 's... dead?”
“Well, yes and no. If she tried to leave the base she's probably dead. if she's still there, she's probably frozen to death or killed by the cleanup command, but basically, if I'm here, she's not anymore.”
the coldness with which she answered me made me lose the little calm I had, I got up from the armchair and started to back away with my hands on my head, I couldn't stop repeating,
“this can't be happening, this can't be happening”.
“Hey! Mauro, calm down, it's going to be alright. I'm Valeria too. In every way, I'm still your friend, I know who you are and everything we went through, really, it's me, and when I finish managing the leak, the code, it won't work anymore, it will be erased from my mind and I'll be me. So don't worry. You only have to give me the flash disc and this issue ends here. We go back to normal life and nobody will know about anything.
“I'm not going to pretend that my friend didn't die! Alone, fucking freezing to death, I'm not going to let you take her place, I'm not going to let you!” - She interrupted me.
“Mauro, listen to me” - She came closer to me and grabbed my hands, her big, lined eyes looking at me with sweetness, like so many times before.
“I AM Valeria, I have the same fingerprints, the same blood, the same DNA, the same memories, the same scars, absolutely everything. Are you going to tell my mother that I died? to my sister? Are you going to report me? Nobody is going to believe you at all. If anyone even wants to believe you, how would you prove it? I am an exact copy”. - she told me, smiling with real sweetness and empathy.
I could only cry, for my friend, for the helplessness of the conclusion that she was right. I collapsed on the couch, and watched as the hills swayed in the night.
“Let's have the last glass and I'm leaving.”- she said to me.
“After I give you this, and that part of you disappears, will you remember that you are not... really Valeria?
“No, there is already a simulation on pause about Valeria's last week, she won't remember anything about this situation when she wakes up, because the memory is simply overwritten.”
“So I'm going to be the only one to know about this?”
“Take it as a gift Mauro, a glimpse behind the veil. And if you keep it that way, everything will be fine” - The threatening tone was soft but evident.
“Okay, hand me your PC and the flash drive.”
I looked at her evaluating all possible actions and if this decision was the right one, she stretched out her hand and smiled sympathetically. I gave her the old computer and the black 16G flash drive with the file. She inserted it, typed mechanically fast until the screen went black.
“Perfect, That would be all - She took out the flash drive, threw it on the floor and stepped on it violently with the heel of her shoe, put on his backpack and headed for the door.
“Stop,” I said.
“The things that Dr. B wrote... about the underground…
“Yes, they are true, it was the only way to be self-sustainable and to be able to isolate the complex from the rest of the world. Even the most morally flexible scientists would question the work if they knew where the subjects ended up, and what we were doing with their bodies... Anyway, I'm going home, Lucia called me 5 times already. Talk to you tomorrow.
“Love you,.” - She smiled at me and closed the door behind her. I felt a car slowly drive away from the house.
From my pocket I took out the white flash drive and looked at it. Now I had a decision to make.
submitted by za_dorov to scarystories [link] [comments]
My friend, let's call her Valeria, was part of a public competition to accompany a minor scientific expedition to the Uruguayan Antarctic base. Her thesis was about investigating how information reception behaves in remote and isolated areas.
I barely read it , but basically tries to show that information circulates and is received in a particular way in these circumstances by a group of unfamiliar people living under extreme climatic and isolation conditions, having as an example, life in submarines and in military bases in Siberia. The Antarctic base gave her the chance to observe some of her postulates up close.
Finally, she was chosen and traveled with this scientific group in a commercial flight Montevideo - Santiago de Chile to later arrive at Punta Arenas and fly to the Antarctic base.
The last communication I had with her before she sent me the almost 90 photographic captures of the Journal, was on March 15, 2024.
We talked over the phone about how the weather was in Montevideo, that it does not stop raining and the cars are practically floating on the streets. She told me that the transport that was going to take them back was having mechanical problems and they would probably have to order spare parts for the plane from Punta Arenas. Then She told me that it is freaking cold down there and his colleagues are all very boring. Nobody has whisky for the evenings. We laughed about that part because I told her to bring at least one bottle of Grappa in her purse.
Before saying goodbye, she told me they had spotted some old metal structures south of the base. The soldiers told her that it was safe to go near that part so she was going to explore them. It wasn't there when they first arrived and that the recent and atypical heat wave probably must have exposed it. I told her to be careful and we said goodbyes.
Three days later I received an email. “Valeria shared a file with you.” As I start to see what it was about she calls me.
“Mauro? MAURO!, can you hear me?” She said in a nervous and excited voice.
“I can barely hear you, what happened?”I asked half asleep, while still lying on my bed.
“Listen to me carefully, don't talk, just listen” I could tell by her agitation that she was walking fast or maybe running. The creaking footsteps in the snow could be heard in the background. in the distance, a catastrophe-type siren was blaring.
“Are you alright? What happened? What's that noise?” I said, now sitting on the edge of my bed.
“I sent you a file. Transfer it to a flash drive, delete history and reset your cell phone, the computer and your email address. I'll explain everything later, it'll be worth it.”
“What? What are you talking about Vale?, what for? Tell me what's going on - I started to yell at her, in slide panic.
“Listen, I found something that is not supposed to exist. In the diary he explains everything. I'm going back to the base, I think someone is following me, I set off an alarm or something. Save that file for me until I get there and remember that... “
There were two loud booms and the sound of water invading the transmission. A choked bubbling and cracking sound reminded me of ice collapsing. My friend had fallen into the water, in Antarctica.
“HEY, are you OK?! What happened?!” - I kept screaming hysterically until the call was cut off.
I looked at my cell phone for a second. My hands were shaking, I tried calling several times but the phone went dead. I looked at the compressed file. I jumped up and ran to the dining room furniture, frantically looking for a white flash drive that had to be in a drawer somewhere. I couldn't find it, so I went back to my desk. I pulled the drawer so hard that it came off the rail and fell to the floor. I started to dig through my belongings on the floor, coins, papers, cards, nothing.
I thought, I struggled to remember where I had fucking put it. Finally I saw my backpack peeking out from behind the desk chair, I jumped on it and in the second small pocket from the inside, there was a cheap white 16G flash drive. I put it in the pc, downloaded the file directly there, took it out and fabric restored the entire system on the computer. I do the same with my cell phone as Valeria said.
At the time I didn't even question if those measures really prevented me from being tracked, and the idea that that was the reason made panic run through my body like lightning. Sitting on the floor of my room next to the mess, my body was numb with tension. After a few seconds, I rebooted my cell phone to try to call Lucia, her sister.
“Hello?”
“Lucia, it's that you? I think something bad happened to Vale, I hear her over the phone as if she fell into the water, and some rumbling. I don't know what I heard, I think she got into some trouble or some place she shouldn't have been - I realized that I was mumble and not saying anything clear. For some reason, I didn't mention the file.
“It can't be Mauro, I just spoke to her on the phone. She was at the airport in Santiago de Chile at the boarding lounge, we talked for about half an hour, she told me she was bringing a fancy bourbon to share and…”
I stopped listening, it didn't make sense, how could it be? what the fuck is going on!
“Mauro, are you ok? Is something wrong? it's too early, are you sure you didn't dream it?”
“Did you talk to her? half an hour ago? But...,” I exclaimed without being able to hide my confusion.
“Are you... sure it was her?”
“Yes, of course you moron, it's my sister! Did you smoke pot again on an empty stomach?”
“No, you're right, nevermind, thanks Lucia, talk to you soon.” I ended the call without letting her say goodbye.
Had I dreamt about it? I erased everything now, how will I know if I dreamt it? I hesitated absurdly.
This is surreal, I thought to myself as I looked at the flash drive in my hand. I refocused my attention and went to the attic looking for my brother's old laptop he left me before going to live in Spain. It was practically useless, but it was enough to see the file. I turned it on, waited for the decrepit Windows XP to load, and put the flashdisk in, opened the compressed folder and found two files.
“LabNotes.pdf”
“PersonalDiary.pdf”
I decided to open the journal first. From what I interpreted from the loading order of the screenshots, after reading it, I opened the image of the last page.
I transcribe as is.
Day 243 of the 2nd mission 10: 40 am. March 12, 2019.
I am the head researcher of the Psychological Area at the UN Antarctic base; I'm currently assigned to Project Sisyphus categorized as the highest classified rank.
This is going to sound crazy, but the person living with my family is my clone.
It still surprises me when I say it out loud, but after being able to replicate the brain-muscular history (a perfect copy of our memory) of any person and having mastered replicating every cell of our bodies at any age, it was only a matter of time before the development of social biotechnology would emerge. Now and by worldwide agreement, as a complete secret.
There is absolutely no shame or a shred of ethics in what we do, there is no longer any constraint on what we can do to the subjects for the sake of research. That haunts me every day.
It all went to shit so fast, I doubt anyone will come to our rescue. The protocol says so, the base in the face of an imminent security risk will erase itself. The structure was designed to collapse methodically following a protocol of incineration and sinking. The immediate perimeter has underwater mines that make the ice collapse almost imperceptibly, but deadly to anyone who tries to leave.
No one can escape from the base, neither the research staff nor the subjects. Our place in the world is already taken.
I only hope that this journal along with my lab notes will be found at some point. I managed to construct a small insulating gasket for it so I trust it will survive in case this part of the building collapses as well.
Please use this data to let the world know what happened here and don't let perversity define us once again.
To my family: I love you and miss you every minute.
B.
At the exact moment I ended the reading I received a video call that made me jump with fright, it is...
Valeria.
With my pulse shaking, I answered the call.
“Hi you! The flight was delayed, can you believe it? This one is absolutely in my top three, worst trips of my life. I'm really hungry and everything is so expensive here. What are you up to? Tell me something, please, I'm soooo bored!”
I looked at her with confusion and I couldn't manage to pronounce words. When I was about to modulate an answer she interrupted me.
“What's the matter Mauro?, are you on pause? Is the signal OK? HELLO! Can you hear me? Can you see me?” She started to walk through the boarding lounge looking for better signal
“Yes yes, Valeria I can hear you.”
She laughed and looked at me with a face between sensual and serious, and continued.
“Do you miss me?” while raising the phone jokingly as she typically does in her selfie pose.
“Valeria, don't you remember calling me earlier today?”
“I? called you? Nop. Why? Ah! By the way, did you know there are penguins in Tierra del Fuego? I would have liked to go and see them.” She continued his verbose conversation in a carefree tone, with her typical hand gestures and playing with his hair.
“Well, at last!” She interrupted herself and shouted, jumping up from her chair.
“We are being called to board, see you in a couple hours!” She said goodbye with a smiling sonority, and began to walk towards the boarding gate.
But at the last second, before ending the call, her gesture changed. She looked directly at the camera with a hardened and emotionless face and almost mechanically, she whispered.
“(I'm going to retrieve that diary).”
My stomach dropped to the floor and I could feel as if my blood was running cold with fear. I could not shake the awful and eerie feeling that this person, who was returning, whom I had never in my life called by her full name, was not my friend.
So, the next couple of hours I put everything in to transcribe the rest of important passages of the diary. Something was compelling me to do it, i can't explain it, Some mix between moral duty, and morbid curiosity. Here is my selection of it.
Lab notes. day 96 of 1st mission 08:00 am December 22, 2016.
Subject JON X012:
First physical assessments: Normal, alert and inquisitive, exhibits some alteration to screens.
We place 100 cc of sedative in room air. The subject attentively follows the narrative of scenario B5 “The last mission”.
The subject responds positively to the premises of the story, where he is asked to address an audience threatened by a natural disaster, convincing them to choose a certain path out of the city.
He offers to collaborate but fails to articulate the message with the power to overcome the simulation.
We resort to pouring 125cc of concentrated Psilocybin into the air as stipulated in the protocol sheet.
The vocal frequency and body language reading receptors in the observation room are activated. The subject manages to formulate a series of premises articulately and with discursive power, circulating around the observation room.
Successful reaction.
We move on to the next stage.
Case is filed under the label “Jobs Project.”
Diary entry: Day 96 of the 1st mission 21:30 pm. December 22, 2016.
Today they transferred subject JON X0012 for psychological evaluation, several in the lab were very anxious about this arrival. I was never the religious type, but I can understand why. Truth be told,
I always imagined Jesus would be taller.
*********
Day 106 of the 1st mission 08:00 am January 02, 2017
Today we received a new lab assistant for the night shift. Much needed as I was covering these shifts myself and am really burned out. The underground operates at full power at those hours, the hum of the machinery becomes unbearable. This must be why the rooms have an insulating structure.
********
Day 112 of the 1st mission 19:00 pm January 08, 2017.
The new integration is not very bright. He labeled the transcripts wrong again yesterday and doesn't seem to fully understand the importance of these. I'm going to have to go through the whole method with him again. I don't have much patience lately, it's not his fault, he seems like a nice guy and it's real that I need a second of confidence. Better train him from now on. Maybe start a sketch of a short explanatory document.
*******
Small introductory guide.
When the subjects conclude the incubation and breeding process (pages 19 to 52 of the manual), that is to say, that they have at least remembered speech and with it, depending on the time in which they lived, reading and writing, they generally begin to perceive themselves. Just before situational curiosity is when the psychology department comes into action. Either to run the “stand by” simulation or the main tests.
In each subject's file is the target of their cloning, the era in which they lived, and the recommended scenarios to trigger the desired response. If the file has X amount on the cover, this corresponds to the generation of the subject, whether it is the first or 10th time it is incubated.
Generally, it takes between 2 and 5 attempts to generate the correct simulation, and administer the appropriate drugs.
It took 5 attempts to come up with the correct amount of methamphetamine that subject AH X005 (Hitler) needed to function in the scenario, as the correct amount bordered on overdose.
Simulations are much easier since the implementation of multisensor AI. We managed to generate almost any scenario including temperature, smells, lights and sounds. We tried not to use familiar ones, as human smells are impossible to replicate. We found this out in a complicated way. We tried to recreate a conversation between RR subject X003 (Reagan) and his mother, but he recognized the fakery by the absence of body odor. His mind collapsed and we had to move him to the Underground. The people in Area C (Private Clients) almost lost a very large Chinese account.
After calibrating the subject, we ran both psychological and behavioral tests, scanned retinas, analyzed blood, as well as vocal and body language. But what has really yielded surprising results are the free interviews. It is amazing what some minds are capable of with the right environmental and chemical stimulation. That's why transcription is vital (!!)
Our area develops BC (Behavioral Algorithms) which are then bought by the private sector, and some government agencies.
To give you some examples: Twitter was an idea of subject JO X008 (Orwell).
Bots in social media and the use of big data was an idea of JG X002 (Goebbels) and KM X014`s worst nightmare (Marx) was bought by Amazon.
It is an arduous process and the success rate is low, but when we achieve the goal per subject, well, these results are a mein part of the latest revolutions of mankind.
So follow the lab rules, never refer to subjects by their actual historical name, and always remember, they are assets, not people.
***********
Day 117 of the 1st mission 16:30 am January 12, 2017.
Today is a rest day all over area D. I miss many things from the old world that I thought I would never miss, taking a bus, standing in line with strangers, and today I miss Sundays. We only have one on the month. So as usual we gather in the rest area to listen to a liberated jukebox that tries to lighten the mood. I know, right? Why I wrote about this “Saturday” photocopy, well besides the same nostalgic drunks, I was approached by a person I didn't recognize.
From what I understood he was a rehabilitated alcoholic, maybe that's why I didn't see him on “Saturdays”. He must be in his 50's, he was portly and wore thick black-rimmed glasses, he seemed to have a slight limp, I noticed it when he went to refill my beer.
I am a very reserved person and find it hard to talk to people. Truth be told, I've lost the desire to talk to people here. What can you actualy fucking talk about here, if it's not about the same thing. Everything revolves around work and some inter-area gossip, which never escalates much.
But yesterday was Clara's birthday and to hide the remorse and sadness of only having shared with her the first 3 years of her life, I had a few too many beers.
We chatted about banal aspects of life in isolation, and the things we miss. For him it was going to the stadium to watch soccer with his grandchildren. I think it was loneliness and nostalgia that brought us together that night.
His name was Sigfried, I don't know if I spelled it right, but it was clearly Nordic, i notice because of some of the words he mixed up with English. He works as the underground level security manager. We all know that it is one of the most restricted areas and what we have learned in these almost 10 years in the project, is that the more restricted, the less questions you should ask.
But that day, I think I felt the urge to hurt myself, to go off the rails, so I asked what we all suspected but no one knew for sure. I asked about the blenders. I wish I hadn't.
************
Day 126 of the 1st mission 08:00 am January 21, 2017.
I almost can't express how furious I am today, but I'm going to try because if I don't, I'm going to punch the new assistant in the face. He has nothing to do with this, he's just mildly irritating.
Anyway, in Genetic Mapping or area A, they approved the incubation of another Anomaly. It seems to be an express request from a major shareholder and there is not much to say. Anomalies are very risky to reproduce, nature is wise, and for some reason it placed them in history moments where they had their limitations.
It seems that after the crisis of 2010 with “The Russian Devil” it is no longer scary enough. New school morons... If they had been there they wouldn't even dare to think about it. I AM FURIOUS.
The arguments are that this case lived longer, that the clone would be in his 70s, and that he possessed noticeably more “civilized” traits. As if the court of the last Zar had not been somewhat civilized.
Personally I think this is a big mistake. Since the discovery that some people possess unknown DNA components and with the 2010 background, they should draw the line. There are certain things, still beyond our ability to understand. But it is delusional of me to think that there are limits, someday the absence of them will consume us all.
************
Lab notes day 142 of 1st mission 08:00 am February 06, 2017.
Final free interview with JON subject X012
Scenario B-24 or “The Dinner Party” Result: Normal.
Notes: Subject is grateful, positive, docile and hopeful for the future. Offers to cook next time by asking for spices and ingredients of typical Hindu dishes.
The subject is directed to the Underground area.
Attached audio for transcription.
Case is filed under the label “Jobs Project”.
**********
Day 142 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 06, 2017.
Today was the last session with subject JON X012, I managed to extract the last retinal and body language readings, as usual before sending them to Underground level. We ran the dinner scenario, the truth is that is one of the best simulations we have achieved. The subjects are relaxed resulting in the best free interview environment. This one was no exception, I must say I understand the charm of the “messiah” turned out to be quite an entertaining subject. I hope his next generation will be similar.
**********
Day 152 of the 1st mission 19:00 pm February 16, 2017.
I was tasked with the continuous monitoring of subject NT X004. I am not at all happy with this transfer. First of all, I know nothing about area B of engineering and technology. Secondly, I still think this is a really bad idea.
One of the laboratories has been set up with the essential simulation equipment and personnel. Tomorrow we start with the calibration.
**********
Lab notes day 153 of the 1st mission 08:00 am February 17, 2017.
First interview with subject NT X004, we run simulation scenario 54-A, “Signal from another planet.”
Subject is observed to be receptive at first but quickly changes to paranoid. We administer 300cc of MDMA via air, according to protocol.
We introduce the reconstructed figure of a colleague in a cry for help speech.
The Subject laughs and doesn't believe a word, we move to a physical approach plane,
I volunteer myself with a room operator from the engineering area, we show him unfinished plans of an experimental vacuum propulsion engine.
He laughs again and tells us that we are not who we say we are.
We administer 50cc of DMT and move on to the next scenario.
From the screen an astronaut with non-human features sends a distress signal and intergalactic coordinates.
The subject looks thoughtful, reassesses, picks up the blueprints and begins to shout out values and what appears to be mathematical and physical formulas.
Air is charged with percentages of absolute sedation.
Audio recording is attached.
It is filed under the name “Project SpaceX.”
**********
Day 153 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 17, 2017.
I'm not sure what happened today, this is the first time in 10 years that a subject overcame the deception of 3 simulations. We had to place absolute sedation in the air, as risky as we know it is. I recommended that we restart the process from scratch, but it was a resounding no, the client is in a hurry.
I need to get more involved in this case to recalibrate the subject. I don't know if I want to. The words before full sedation still resonate with me. “are you still using DC current? interesting...”
**********
Day 154 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 18, 2017.
Something happened, I don't quite know what. The rooms have an emergency lockdown active. Outside hear security personnel mobilizing. I tried the intercom but it didn't work. The insulation prevents my screams from being heard from the outside. If this goes on another day I'm going to break the lock. I'm going to set my backpack to the bare minimum.
**********
Day 157 of the 1st mission 21:00 pm February 21, 2017.
Yesterday I heard explosions in the B area. I couldn't take it anymore and broke the lock. Whatever it was I had to go out and see. The corridors were dark, and the underground buzzer went on, at least that worked.
I went right to the north staircase, down the 4 floors in near darkness, the power was failing. The entrance to the underground area was barricaded but I managed to see a figure peeking out from inside as they felt me making noises.
It was Sigfried, he pointed me in the doors direction and I entered through a heavily armored side door. I was surprised by the immensity of this section, it encompassed a large hall below almost all the sectors of the base. In front of us there were 4 large industrial pipes with switches and multiple smaller pipes coming out of their bases. These were repeated like mosaics throughout the area until they disappeared into the distance in the darkness.
Leaning against one of them were 3 officers in formerly white coats and a nearly dead guard bloodied on the floor. Poor guy, his legs were crushed with his flesh in the open. He was lying in a pool of his own blood.
He had a blank stare and was panting, it seemed from the pale of his skin, that his fate was imminent. My asthma began to pound in my chest sharply, so I reached into my bag looking for my inhaler. I told them between visible gasps of bad breath to please tell me what's happened.
One of the doctors had a badge from area B and another from area E which corresponds to bio-armamentistics. The latter burst into tears and said “We deserve it, every one of us, we deserve it”.
I knew the other guy, he is an engineer in area B. I could hear him babbling almost nonsensically about, as why they never thought about it, an issue with electrical power.
He looked at me carefully as if recognizing me and grabbed me tightly by my jacket pulling me close to his face transformed for the panic.
“He let them out, all of them!” but not only that, no no no no... he told them the truth. Nikola fucking Tesla hacked us and told them the truth.”
He began to laugh frantically with a face of absurdity until he burst into a choked cry. At that moment everything went dark. The emergency lights activated, and from far away and getting closer, along with the emergency sirens that began to sound, we heard a large mass of people screaming and running through the corridors outside.
Sigfried looked at me as they started to pound on the shielded door and said.
“We're fucked.”
**************
Day xx of the second mission, month xx of 2017
“()The industrial sounds of spinning blades, the cries for mercy followed by the thunderous, liquid crack, down that big pipe, into the green barrels, with the Monsanto logo, dripped down one side an elongated drop of pink paste ending in the letter E on the chemical label. FERTILIZER.”
**********
After finishing the transcription, my whole body began to want to flee, the walls of my house were tinged with a faint blue light as the cloudy dusk came through the window, the lights turned off by my abstraction at the computer gave way to the dark corridors that began to feel alien. As I gently closed the pc my ears began to ring as if under pressure, my breathing became more present and the vibration of my cell phone interrupted my trance.
A call from the office. It was to tell me that I had a vacation week pending, that by schedule, I had to take it starting today.
Sons of bitches, now they even choose your time off - I thought at first, but at the same time I found the voice on the phone very strange, and to tell the truth, the procedure itself.
The anger turned into confusion that only added to the paranoia. The sounds in the street began to seem erratic, a chaotic and strangely familiar feeling came over me. My senses seemed increasingly acute, and they screamed:
Go away.
I grabbed the old laptop, the flash drive and headed for the bus station. The short trip from my house seemed like a long journey. People on the street looked at me with strange faces, the cell phone kept ringing with unknown numbers on the screen and a strange idea began to formulate in my head that whispered “Them, Valeria is one of Them”.
Already on the platforms I rummaged through my backpack where I confirmed that I had the key to the family beach house in San Luis, 60 km to the east of Montevideo. I turned off my cell phone, got on a bus heading to another and much far away town called Treinta y Tres. Sat near the last seat and slipped my cell phone in my front pocket of the seat in front of me, got off and commented to the driver with a clueless face, “I got confused, I'm going to the coast”.
I almost jumped onto the steps of the correct bus to where I was heading, unable to avoid the gazes of the passengers questioning me for the last minute drop in. I sat in my numbered seat and defragmented in dissociation, trying to understand what I was doing, I was running away, but from what?
The images of the last transcriptions were engraved in my mind, the last paragraph was repeated over and over again making me shake my head from time to time trying to get them away from my thoughts. The road was dark and I lost track of time, the digital clock within sight of the passengers jingling since we left, reading 10:40.
“San Luis Station!” - I heard the guard's shout in low volume.
I staggered to my feet, hurried to get off and with the same impulse I entered the dirt roads.
I zig-zagged through the dark, cold and silent beach town. The moonless night and the smell of the sea calmed me.
When I turned the corner to the gabled beach house of my family, on the steps of the front door lit by a white light, was her. Sitting, waiting for me. I stopped dead in my tracks and a chilling vertigo ran down my torso to my throat. We looked at each other for a short two seconds, until she stopped and started walking in sliding steps towards me, smiling and playing with her hands, crossing and uncrossing her arms. The growing sound of the wind through the trees covered us.
“Darling, how are you? How nice is the summer house, I don't think we ever came here, did we? Is it the one your grandmother left you?”
I felt the adrenaline rushing through my bloodstream, how could such a familiar attitude from such a familiar person transmit such panic to me? I had to answer something.
“Yes, this is it. I came to clear my head for a while, they gave me a few days at work and I wanted to take advantage of it.” I tried to excuse myself with failed dissimulation, since I stuttered in the middle of the words.
“Yes, I know! We arranged it with them, so you can be more relaxed and as a gesture for taking care of the file. Ah! and another thing. I think someone stole your cell phone at the bus station.” She looked at me with a smart-ass smile.
“Anyway, don't worry, they already found it on a bus on the way to “Treinta y tres”. You can get it back later.”
At this point I opened my mouth to ask for explanations, but as terrified as I was I only mumbled a “thank you”.
All this dialogue let us half a body length away, Valeria looked at me now a little more serious and stood at my side. She took my arm petrified and I could feel how a strong smell of neutral soap invaded me, as if she had rubbed herself in it too much.
“Shall we go inside? it's getting cold,” She said, finishing the sentence with a sweet gesture of pleading.
“Emm, shure.” I said.
My trembling hands managed to hit the lock on the 3rd attempt, we entered, turned on the lights and from his backpack she took out a red wine. Our favorite.
“Bring me some glasses, Mauro”. - She said to me as she sat down on the armchair against the window overlooking the gentle hills outside.
She poured wine until he almost filled the ex-cottage cheese glass, looked at me and in a toast gesture said.
“To... Dr. B?”
I slid a little smile and raised my eyebrows. Then I took half a glass in one sip.
“Well!” - She exclaimed, leaning over and resting the glass on the coffee table, and continued.
"You must be very confused, I understand, I saw it many times, the mind trying to adapt to a new, unsuspected reality and in your case all at once. It is not easy. First, make sure that no one is going to hurt you or anyone you know, second, what you read in that file, as you may have noticed, is not intended for public knowledge. Also to tell you”. I couldn't take the stress anymore, I exploded.
“You're not Vale. Who are you?! You're almost identical, but....”
“Ah yes, that one it's a tricky one to explain. Let's try, let's see:
“I'm a version of Valeria that she accidentally gendered when entered the lab. In one of the incubation rooms she touched a scan button that photographs her mind for 48 hours. It contains a micro needle that took her blood and thus generated me.”
“The thing is that we were in a situation of self-destruction of the systems, and that part of the programming code of the protocol was also copied in Valeria's mind.”
“And Valeria? She 's... dead?”
“Well, yes and no. If she tried to leave the base she's probably dead. if she's still there, she's probably frozen to death or killed by the cleanup command, but basically, if I'm here, she's not anymore.”
the coldness with which she answered me made me lose the little calm I had, I got up from the armchair and started to back away with my hands on my head, I couldn't stop repeating,
“this can't be happening, this can't be happening”.
“Hey! Mauro, calm down, it's going to be alright. I'm Valeria too. In every way, I'm still your friend, I know who you are and everything we went through, really, it's me, and when I finish managing the leak, the code, it won't work anymore, it will be erased from my mind and I'll be me. So don't worry. You only have to give me the flash disc and this issue ends here. We go back to normal life and nobody will know about anything.
“I'm not going to pretend that my friend didn't die! Alone, fucking freezing to death, I'm not going to let you take her place, I'm not going to let you!” - She interrupted me.
“Mauro, listen to me” - She came closer to me and grabbed my hands, her big, lined eyes looking at me with sweetness, like so many times before.
“I AM Valeria, I have the same fingerprints, the same blood, the same DNA, the same memories, the same scars, absolutely everything. Are you going to tell my mother that I died? to my sister? Are you going to report me? Nobody is going to believe you at all. If anyone even wants to believe you, how would you prove it? I am an exact copy”. - she told me, smiling with real sweetness and empathy.
I could only cry, for my friend, for the helplessness of the conclusion that she was right. I collapsed on the couch, and watched as the hills swayed in the night.
“Let's have the last glass and I'm leaving.”- she said to me.
“After I give you this, and that part of you disappears, will you remember that you are not... really Valeria?
“No, there is already a simulation on pause about Valeria's last week, she won't remember anything about this situation when she wakes up, because the memory is simply overwritten.”
“So I'm going to be the only one to know about this?”
“Take it as a gift Mauro, a glimpse behind the veil. And if you keep it that way, everything will be fine” - The threatening tone was soft but evident.
“Okay, hand me your PC and the flash drive.”
I looked at her evaluating all possible actions and if this decision was the right one, she stretched out her hand and smiled sympathetically. I gave her the old computer and the black 16G flash drive with the file. She inserted it, typed mechanically fast until the screen went black.
“Perfect, That would be all - She took out the flash drive, threw it on the floor and stepped on it violently with the heel of her shoe, put on his backpack and headed for the door.
“Stop,” I said.
“The things that Dr. B wrote... about the underground…
“Yes, they are true, it was the only way to be self-sustainable and to be able to isolate the complex from the rest of the world. Even the most morally flexible scientists would question the work if they knew where the subjects ended up, and what we were doing with their bodies... Anyway, I'm going home, Lucia called me 5 times already. Talk to you tomorrow.
“Love you,.” - She smiled at me and closed the door behind her. I felt a car slowly drive away from the house.
From my pocket I took out the white flash drive and looked at it. Now I had a decision to make.
2024.05.13 06:01 Then-Captain1962 Charlie Puth - Monthly Pop Songwriting and Production (Download)
 | Charlie Puth - Monthly Pop Songwriting and Production submitted by Then-Captain1962 to PeaceStudying [link] [comments] Charlie Puth - Monthly Pop Songwriting and Production Reviews: Is it worth it?Hey there, music maestros and aspiring hitmakers! Today, I've got something juicy for you. If you've ever found yourself humming tunes in the shower, tapping rhythms on your desk, or dreaming of seeing your name on the Billboard charts, then buckle up because "Charlie Puth - Monthly Pop Songwriting and Production" might just be your ticket to stardom.Pre-class Prep: Setting the Stage for Sonic BrillianceBefore diving headfirst into the world of pop magic with Charlie Puth, you'll need to do a bit of pre-flight check. But fear not, Charlie's got your back! In this introductory phase, he'll walk you through all the setup necessities so that when Day 1 rolls around, you'll be armed with everything you need to unleash your inner songwriting genius.Days 1-19: From Silence to Symphony - The Art of Crafting Chart-ToppersEver wondered how those catchy hooks and irresistible melodies come to life? Well, wonder no more because Charlie's pulling back the curtain on his entire songwriting and production process. From the spark of inspiration to the final mixdown, you'll be right there alongside him, soaking in every nugget of wisdom as he crafts an original masterpiece before your very eyes (or ears, rather). By the end of this phase, you'll have not one, but TWO release-ready songs under your belt. Talk about leveling up!Days 20-30: Pushing Boundaries and Breaking BarriersNow that you've got a couple of bangers under your belt, it's time to shake things up a bit. In this second phase, Charlie encourages you to step out of your comfort zone and embrace the unknown. Together, you'll embark on a sonic adventure, exploring new sounds, styles, and musical territories. Who knows? You might just stumble upon your next big hit by daring to be different.Why "Charlie Puth - Monthly Pop Songwriting and Production" RocksSo, what sets this course apart from the myriad of others out there? Well, for starters, you're learning from one of the hottest names in the pop music scene right now. Charlie Puth isn't just a Grammy-nominated artist; he's a bona fide hitmaker with a knack for crafting infectious tunes that stick in your head like glue.But it's not just about the star power. What truly makes this course shine is its hands-on, immersive approach to learning. Instead of drowning you in theory and technical jargon, Charlie takes you by the hand and guides you through the entire songwriting and production process, step by step. It's like having your own personal mentor, minus the hefty price tag. And let's not forget about the community aspect. Throughout the course, you'll have the opportunity to connect with fellow music enthusiasts from all walks of life, sharing ideas, giving feedback, and cheering each other on every step of the way. After all, there's nothing quite like the thrill of making music together. So, whether you're a seasoned pro looking to up your game or a total newbie with dreams of making it big, "Charlie Puth - Monthly Pop Songwriting and Production" has something for everyone. Who knows? With a little bit of hard work, dedication, and Charlie's expert guidance, you just might be the next big thing to hit the charts. |